


hot singles in your area

by rire



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - College/University, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, First Time, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mutual Pining, Phone Sex, Phone sex operator AU, Porn With Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Spanking, Vibrators, will add tags with updates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-19 12:11:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8207224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rire/pseuds/rire
Summary: “So she gave you a fake number?”“Yeah.”“And it turned out to be the number of a sex line?”“Yep.”“And then you decided jerking off was the best solution for your heartbreak?”“I guess you could put it that way.”“... And now you’re in love with a phone sex operator.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> shout out to keith's "good kitty" line in ep 1 for awakening my voice kink.
> 
> hope you guys enjoy!!

In all respects, Lance is a total expert on dating. Like, sure, he’s only been on a handful of dates, but he knows all the rules in the book. He is totally familiar with the concept of waiting 24 hours before calling someone after a first date. Because you didn’t want to come across as clingy, or anything. Which Lance definitely isn’t, of course.

But even though he’d been sitting on the bed with his textbook balanced on his knees for the past hour, staring at the pages so hard he was sure his eyes were going to burn holes in them, he wasn’t getting any studying done. Nyma’s silky blonde hair and killer purple lipstick that matched her purple eyes (colour contacts, maybe?) kept surfacing and resurfacing in Lance’s mind like the background music of a popular commercial. Lance decides it’s time to take action.

He glances at the clock. Seven o’clock p.m. They’d met at like… ten o’clock the night before, at that party. Technically, they hadn’t been on a date, so he could bend the rules a little. Besides, twenty-one hours was close enough. Steeling himself with resolve, he picks up his phone with one hand and the slip of paper with her number on it with the other and dials.

The phone rings a couple times, in which he can hear his own heart beating. And then—

“Hello there, sexy,” drawls possibly the sultriest, sexiest voice Lance had ever heard. And it was male. It was a male voice and Lance was red all the way to his ears just from hearing _three words._

The fact that it was clearly _not_ Nyma registered belatedly in his head. Who was this stranger? Did Nyma actually have a boyfriend? Why did he think Lance was sexy? Was he a swinger? Lance’s brain kicks into overdrive, and he can’t respond.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

He isn’t even saying anything lewd, but that low, husky voice sounds like something straight out of a porno. Lance responds involuntarily with a (totally dignified and manly) squeak ( _not_ a squeak, just a— a noise of surprise).

“Nervous?” The voice on the other end lets out a sexy chuckle. Since when were chuckles capable of being sexy? Since five seconds ago, apparently. “That’s cute. Don’t worry, I’ll take you through it. Just need to grab your credit card info, and then we can get this show on the road.”

Wait.

Credit card info?

“Uh, who are you?” Lance stammers.

“I’m whoever you want me to be for tonight.” The words roll right off his tongue. Jesus, this should be illegal. Lance has a problem in his pants. But there’s an even bigger problem. The fact that Lance had not called Nyma was already obvious. What is becoming apparent, however, is the ridiculousness of just _how_ wrong the number had been.

“Oh my God,” Lance breathes. “Is this a sex hotline?”

The voice on the other end falls silent for a moment. When he speaks up again, he sounds exasperated and more than a little pissed. “You could’ve told me you had the wrong number. Would’ve saved us both time.”

Lance isn’t gonna lie— the magnitude of this change in attitude is kind of throwing him off. But still, he needs to get to the bottom of this. “No, no, I called exactly what she wrote on this paper.” For emphasis, he reads the number aloud.

The stranger on the other end laughs, a completely different sort of laugh than the chuckle he gave earlier— the sound rings out, genuine, and actually really nice. “Dude. She gave you a fake number.”

“Don’t _laugh_ ," Lance huffs, even as he thinks that he doesn’t actually mind being laughed at. The stranger— the phone sex worker, or whatever— doesn’t seem to have any malicious intent.

“Sorry, but it’s pretty funny. Who gives out the number of a sex line? You must’ve really got on her nerves.”

Okay, forget that comment on the lack of malicious intent. This guy’s brutal honesty is grating on _Lance’s_ nerves. “I did not,” he says, a little pitifully even to himself. “I was a total gentleman for all of the five minutes that we talked.”

“No kidding,” the guy deadpans, though not without a hint of amusement. “Anyway, sorry about the girl but I’ve gotta hang up now. Got clients to take.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Lance sighs, slumping backwards against the wall. “I wasted your time, didn’t I. Yeah, I’m just gonna go now and wallow in self-pity now. Hope you have a good night, uh—”

 _I didn’t get your name,_ he’d planned to say, but then trailed off, feeling stupidly awkward. Good thing he _hadn’t_ asked. Phone sex dudes didn’t just give out their names. And besides, “have a good night?” Really? Yeah, this guy was gonna have the time of his life making lewd noises to strangers on the phone. Good one, Lance.

He isn’t usually such an un-smooth talker. There’s just something about the guy’s voice that has him tripping up.

“Keith,” the voice says, and then stops short, as if he didn’t mean to say it. “Yeah, ‘night.”

The abrupt click of the phone on the other end signaled the end of the devastatingly brief conversation. No— what? He meant devastating _and_ brief, yeah. There was absolutely no reason to prolong that trainwreck that had just happened.

So. Nyma had given him a fake number.

Dry humour of the Keith incident aside, there’s a sort of strange emptiness in the pit of Lance’s stomach, and he attributes it to that— the fact that he liked her, and the fact that she hadn’t felt the same. Just another day in the life of Lance, really. It’d be a lie to say he didn’t want to get laid, but it was so much more than that. He was just starved for affection and human contact, damn it. That was how the world was— everyone went around minding their own business, pretending like they didn’t cry alone in their rooms at three in the morning. Or at least, that was how Lance’s world had been for too long, and he was sick of it.

He gets up and goes over to the fridge, pulls out a six-pack of beer, cracks a can open. Takes a sip, and turns on the radio.

_It’s just another lonely night_

_They happen all the time_

He gulps down a couple more sips.

_And it’s never enough_

_It’s another heartbreak coverup_

He turns off the radio, chugs the entire can, and tosses it on the floor, kicking it away. It wasn’t like he was really all that heartbroken. It was just— did it really have to be that hard to find someone? Maybe he’s just looking in all the wrong places. Maybe he’s just being too traditional, thinking along the straight and narrow lines of romance.

Maybe he’d been too quick to hang up on Keith.

Because when he thinks about it, it’s too much of a coincidence. If fate has you calling a phone sex line and hearing the hottest voice in the entire galaxy, maybe that’s a chance you shouldn’t pass up. After all, when one door shuts, another opens, or something like that.

Before he can talk himself out of it, his phone is back in his hand and he’s pressing the number he most recently dialed.

“Hey there, sexy,” Keith says, and even knowing that the line is rehearsed doesn’t stop Lance from shuddering, just a little.

“Hi,” Lance says. “Remember me?”

“Of course,” Keith says, his voice rich and sultry. “How could I forget the best night of my life?”

Okay, so he has no idea who Lance is.

“It’s me, Lance,” Lance tries again, and then realizes he hadn’t given his own name the last time they talked. “Uh, the wrong number guy? The one who got rejected by a girl and found out through you?”

“Oh,” says Keith, his voice relaxing. He chuckles. “What is it this time? If you need a shoulder to cry on, I’ve got one right here. You still have to pay, though.”

“Yeah, I know,” Lance says, squeezing his phone between his shoulder and his ear as he rummages through his backpack. “Gotcha.” Credit card in hand, he reads out the series of numbers to Keith, and with half a mind listens to Keith typing out the numbers on his keyboard.

“Alright, thanks.” Keith says, then clears his throat. “So, what do you wanna talk about?”

“I didn’t call to talk about her,” Lance blurts out. “I called as— as a customer.”

“...Yeah?” The interested lilt to Keith’s voice sounds genuine. Or maybe that’s just Lance’s ego speaking. And then Keith lapses back into what Lance has already labelled his _sex voice._ “Not gonna lie, I kinda hoped you would.”

Lance swallows, finding that his throat has gone dry.

“You have a really nice voice,” Keith said, and Lance can hear a little smirk in his tone. “And I know you’d have a really nice body, too. Tell me… what do you want me to do to you?”

Lance shudders. He’s never thought much about this at all. “I don’t know,” he admits. “Whatever you want to do to me.” His breath leaves him in a rush, and he flushes, not realizing he’d wanted that until he put it into words.

“I like that,” Keith says, and Lance can almost see his lip curling into a smile. “Alright. Tell me, Lance, what are you wearing?”

“Uh…” Lance glances down, suddenly wishing he was wearing something worth describing. “A t-shirt and boxers.”

“Good. Take them off.”

The sudden authoritative tone in Keith’s voice makes his pulse jump. Hurriedly, he puts the phone on speaker, places it next to him on the bed and takes off his shirt and— after a moment’s hesitation— his pants. He lies back on the bed, feeling bare. Like, he’s literally naked, but he feels… exposed, somehow, and that makes him blush.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Keith breathes into the phone, and Lance shudders, forgetting his nervousness. “You look so good like this. I’m gonna run my hands over you, touch you all over…”

Trying to follow along, Lance tentatively presses a hand to his own chest. He closes his eyes, and his touch tingles as he imagines a foreign hand dragging along the skin there. The smallest of moans escapes his lips. To his surprise, Keith picks up on that.

“Yeah, baby. Does that feel good?”

Lance nods, then remembers Keith can’t see him. “Yeah.”

“I want you to touch yourself for me.”

There’s something in Keith’s voice that has him obeying every command. He reaches down and curls a hand around his cock and can’t help but let out a whimper.

“Fuck,” Keith says, his voice raspy, and Lance squirms, heat coursing through his body. “You sound so hot right now, you have no idea.” Lance continues to stroke, faster, and lets his head fall back— imagines that Keith is right there with him, imagines Keith’s hand, stronger, rougher than his own, stroking his cock, thumbing across the slit. His hips jump and his toes curl as he pants for breath.

“Good boy,” Keith purrs in his ear and Lance _groans,_ hips jolting into his touch— how could anyone make words of praise sound so filthy and _good_? “Yeah, just like that. You’re such a good boy.”

“Mm—” Lance whines. He’s already close, just from the impossibly erotic voice sweet-talking in his ear.

“Feels good?”

“Y-yeah,” he stammers.

“I know what’ll make you feel even better.”

Lance’s heart stops for a moment.

“Do you have any lube with you?”

Lance shoots right off the bed, fumbling through his drawer until he finds it. “Yeah, I got it,” he says, settling back on the bed. He bites his lip and spills some over his fingers only a little clumsily.

“Good,” Keith says, pleased. “Spread your legs for me.”

A whimper escapes Lance’s throat as he parts his legs.

“You’re so gorgeous like this, you know?” Keith says, low. “I just want to fuck you already. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“God,” Lance moans. “Yes— _yes_.”

“Have you done this before, Lance?”

“Nn-nn,” Lance says, with a shake of his head.

“That’s okay, we’re gonna take it slow,” Keith says, honest, not patronizing. “I’ll take good care of you.” And Lance doesn’t doubt that. “I just want to touch your cute little hole first… get it all wet for me.”

Lance brushes his finger against his entrance and has to bite back another moan.

“Yeah… then I’ll push one in—”

Lance does as he’s told, whining at how impossibly good it feels— that’s _Keith’s_ finger, inside him… Keith’s voice by his ear, telling him, “Fuck, you feel so good, so tight. I’m never gonna fit in there, with how hard you’re making me right now. I’ve got to add another, stretch you out.”

“Keith,” Lance pants, a debilitating surge of desire overpowering him. He pushes in another, scissors them and pushes in deep, like Keith would— brushes against his prostate and jolts and cries out. His legs are shaking with how close he is, how badly he _wants Keith—_

“There,” Keith breathes. “Yeah, right there, isn’t it? I’m gonna add one more, get you all ready for me. God, I could just fuck you on my fingers all day, you could come from that, I know you could.” Whimpering and quavering, Lance pushes in a third, curls his fingers like Keith would and brushes against that spot again just as Keith says, “But I don’t want you to just yet, I want you to come from my cock.” Lance’s body twists with pleasure, face pressing sideways into the pillow. It’s all he can do to keep himself from coming apart right then and there but he wants— wants Keith inside him— wants to be good for Keith, wants to do what he’s told.

“Lance,” Keith says, “I’m gonna fuck you now.”

Lance groans, thrusting his fingers, imagining Keith pushing in, imagines how full and how fucking good it would feel. “F-fuck,” he stammers, brokenly, because Keith is _inside_ him, and he’s wanted this for so long. Keith groans, too. “You feel so good, baby, you’re so good for me,” he purrs, and Lance loses it— his final thread of composure snaps and he comes harder than he ever has before, body arching and limbs grappling against the sheets as he spurts hot all over his own stomach.

For a while, he feels like he’s submerged under water— he can’t hear anything above the dull pounding in his ears, and waits as the pacing of his breath returns to normal.

Once it does, the reality of the situation crashes into him. He’d just come from fingering himself, listening to a voice murmuring dirty things through the phone speaker. No, not just a voice— a real person.

And it was the best orgasm he’d had in his life.

“Wow,” he says.

“You did so well,” Keith says, and Lance whimpers and blushes, then covers his face with a hand. Not that Keith could even see him.

“Cute,” Keith says with a little chuckle, and Lance blushes harder.

“What?”

“The sounds you make. They’re cute.”

Lance buries his face in the pillow. It’s not fair how Keith’s well-rehearsed lines work like a charm on him, making his face heat up. With that, a sliver of disappointment wedges itself into the euphoria he’d been feeling up until now. Right. Keith had only said all of those things because he’d gotten paid. And asides from that, this was going to rack up a huge bill on his credit card, and he should definitely hang up now, but somehow— somehow he just wants to stay on the line longer. Maybe it was the romantic in him that had always assumed that after his first time, he’d be making small talk in bed with a romantic partner whom he adored. Maybe it was that.

Lance recalls that he hasn’t replied yet and has just opened his mouth to say something when Keith clears his throat a little awkwardly. “You should go get cleaned up,” he says. “Don’t want to wake up with cum all over yourself.”

“I guess so,” Lance replies. So much for small talk. He’d been an idiot to think that paid phone sex worked that way. “Yeah, I’ll get going now. Um… thanks. For… this.”

An amused little chuckle, again. “Yeah, any time.”

_Click._

Lance wipes himself down with his discarded shirt and lies in bed, counting the grains on the ceiling and wondering how the hell his life led up to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's my first multichapter fic for the fandom, so any feedback is much appreciated! <3
> 
> feel free to talk to me on twitter @redbeantofu :)
> 
> edit: hot af [fanart](http://drawingtoast.tumblr.com/post/151669718366/nsfw-some-fan-art-of-redbeantofu) by toast. thank you so much! <3 (how do you draw so fast omg)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgot to link this last chapter: i received more amazing fanart from [toast](https://twitter.com/justtoastt/status/787464686069350400)! here's an idea of what keith might be doing on the other end of the line (whether he does this when he talks to lance, though, is a question for another day...)
> 
> sorry this chapter took so long, school is kicking my ass ;; i'll try to update quickly whenever i can!

“... and the food was gross, definitely not going there again…”

They’re in the library. Hunk’s mouth is moving as he waves his hands around animatedly, but another voice is playing in Lance’s head like a broken record. He takes a bite of his sandwich, but it tastes dry and bland on his tongue. He stirs his cup of coffee and takes a sip, not feeling any more awake after the sleepless nights spent with his trusty right hand and unsatisfying orgasms.

“Hello? Earth to Lance?”

“Oh,” Lance says, snapping back to reality. “Sorry, dude, Kinda zoned out there. What were you saying?”

“Lance.” Hunk raises an eyebrow. “What’s up with you? You haven’t talked all day.”

“I have been talking!” 

“Not nearly as much as you usually do,” Pidge pipes up helpfully. “I know we’re always telling you to pipe down, but when you don’t run your mouth we start to get a little worried.”

Lance huffs. “You guys are weird. I’m fine! Well… I’m always  _ fine,”  _ he says, waggling his eyebrows. 

Hunk purses his lips, hardly fooled by his antics. “Did you call her?”

“Who?”

“That girl you met a couple days ago… Oh. I see what this is about.” Hunk gives Lance a comforting pat on the shoulder. “It’s okay, buddy. It doesn’t always work out. But you’ll find someone. There are lots of fish in the sea.”

“Or,” Pidge points out, “you could focus on your upcoming midterm.” She nudges the open but discarded Chemistry textbook lying beside Lance on the table.

“Right,” Lance says, tugging the book across the table towards him and flipping through the pages, trying his best to focus.

So what if he’d called a phone sex line. And gotten off to it. It was a one-time thing. He’d been a little buzzed and a little lonely, and now it was over and he was going to move on.

Yeah, right.

If he thought he’d been obsessing over Nyma, this was far worse. Just so much as thinking about that voice sends shivers through him. The worst of it all is that he doesn’t even have a face to put to the name. Keith was, and would remain, just a voice over the phone. To Lance, it was the best orgasm he’d had in his life, but to Keith, it was just a job. Keith had probably forgotten entirely about Lance and was moving on with his life while Lance was stuck here, like a rock in the middle of a rapid stream, unable to go on.

“Okay, that’s it,” Hunk says, reaching over and shutting Lance’s book with finality. “You’ve gotta tell us what’s going on.”

Lance is prepared to utter some bullshit excuse, but then he takes one look into Hunk’s warm, chocolate-brown eyes and concerned frown, and gives in. Before he can help it, the whole story comes pouring out of his mouth. He watches, not without amusement, as Hunk’s and Pidge’s eyes widen comically.

When he’s done, he waits for a verbal reaction.

“Let me get this straight,” said Hunk. “So she gave you a fake number?”

“Yeah.”

“And it turned out to be the number of a sex line?”

“Yep.”

“And then you decided jerking off was the best solution for your heartbreak?”

“I guess you could put it that way.”

“... And now you’re in love with a phone sex operator.”

Lance let out a long, long sigh. “I know, Hunk. My life is a shitshow— wait, _what?”_ He tenses up. “Who said anything about being _in love?_ ”

“You told us you were in love with Nyma ten minutes after you met her,” Pidge says, rolling her eyes. “You said she was ‘the one.’”

Lance flushes. “Stop living in the past!”

Pidge grins. “So, you going to call this Keith guy again?”

“What? No. No way.” Lance shakes his head adamantly. “I’m done with that and I’m gonna move on.”

“You sure? I mean, pardon the pun, but it seems like you’re pretty  _ hung up  _ on him,” Hunk says with a cheery grin.

“Your puns aren’t helping!”

“Well I think you should call him,” Pidge says.

Lance blinks, not expecting this reaction from Pidge of all people. “What?”

“I mean, if you’re going to lose sleep over this, then why not? You know you want to, and denying yourself isn’t going to do any good. Just call him one more time, get some closure, and then you can move on and never call him again.”

Lance blinks a couple times. It hadn’t actually occurred to him— well, it had, but he’d simply pushed it to the back of his mind. Maybe he was kind of hoping for someone to tell him this, to give him permission to do something that seemed so illicit. “Huh,” he says. “For someone who has absolutely no interest in sex, you give pretty good advice.”

Pidge shrugs. “What can I say. I pride myself on thinking with my brain and not my dick.”

Lance claps her on the shoulder. “Thanks, my dude. I’m gonna go do that.” He starts packing his bags, newly invigorated.

Pidge groans. “You don’t have to  _ tell us  _ that you’re going to go have phone sex. We don’t need to know that.”

But he’s already halfway out the door.

“Have fun. And don’t forget about your midterm,” Hunk calls after him.

 

-

 

Not even ten minutes later, Lance is back in his room, phone in hand, this time purposefully dialing the wrong number Nyma had written down. Keith picks up after a couple of rings.

“You ruined my life,” Lance says accusingly.

“...What?”

Lance poorly suppresses the little burst of excitement inside him at hearing Keith’s voice again. “You,” he repeats, “ruined my life. I can’t get off on my own anymore. I haven’t been able to sleep. I haven’t been able to study. I’m going to fail my classes, flunk out of college and disappoint my parents, who will disown me and I’ll die alone on the streets.”

During the long silence that follows, Lance clutches his pillow to his chest and laments that of all the conversation starters in the world, he chose the literal worst possible one. But then Keith speaks up, and his tone barely suppresses a laugh, and Lance kinda melts. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

“Both,” he says truthfully. And then realizes, with a little kick of his heart in his chest, that Keith remembers him.

“So you’re in college.” Of all the things Keith could comment on.

“Yeah. How old are you? Man, I really hope you’re not like, forty or something.” It’d make this a little creepy, wouldn’t it?

“I’m in college, too,” Keith says.

Lance heaves a sigh of relief. “Wait,” he says after a short while. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

“Are we having sex right now?”

“No.”

“Then I’m not. I don’t lie except to pretend to enjoy kinks I wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. You got any more questions? Shoot. I might as well answer them all while I’m at it.”

He’d already asked a couple, so he couldn’t go wrong with asking a couple more, right? Especially since he wasn’t going to call again. “Is Keith your real name?”

“Yeah,” Keith says. “I didn’t mean to tell you my name, actually. It’s not, uh, what people usually call me on here.”

“Why not?”

“Anonymity, mostly.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. Also probably not a good name choice given your chosen career. I’ve heard it’s the most unattractive name in the English language,” he jokes.

“You really did just call to make fun of me, didn’t you,” Keith grumbles.

“You didn’t get the reference?”

“What reference?”

“Uh, Family Guy?”

“Never seen it.”

“Do you live under a rock?”

“I live on my campus.”

Lance can’t help it— he laughs.

_ “What?” _

“You’re killing me, Keith,” Lance says. “You know I’m kidding, right? It’s not really a bad name.” Sure enough, Lance hadn’t had any trouble moaning it at the peak of his pleasure. Especially since the name was attached to such a pleasing voice. “So what do people call you on here?”

“Akira.”

“Oh! I liked that movie,” Lance muses. Keith is oddly silent. “Wait, don’t tell me you’ve never seen  _ Akira. _ Aren’t you Japanese?” Wouldn’t it be kinda weird for a non-Japanese person to pick a Japanese name, even if it was just a phone sex alias?

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean all Japanese people watch anime.”

Lance shrugs. “Point taken. What  _ do  _ you like to watch?”

Keith seems to mull over this for a moment. “Documentaries.”

“Documentaries? Like what?”

“Uh…  _ Operation Avalanche? _ ”

“That’s not a documentary.”

“Hm,” Keith says, amused. “Or was it?” 

“Waaaait,” Lance says. “Hold up. Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who—”

“When you think about it,” Keith replies, “there’s no  _ substantial  _ proof behind the ‘moon landing—’”

“Oh my God,” Lance groans. “I can’t believe I’m talking to a conspiracy theorist.”

“If it kills your boner, I can pretend to believe in the moon landing for a couple minutes.”

Lance splutters as his train of thought veers off a cliff. “What?”

“You called to have sex, didn’t you?”

That… was both true and also not true. He did call with the end goal of sex. But moreover, he was actually enjoying the idle chit-chat more than he thought he would. Rather than just a voice on the phone, Keith was beginning to be shaped like a real person in Lance’s mind. 

“Yeah,” he answers, “I guess.”

“Yeah? You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” Keith lapses back into his sex voice with no effort at all, which Lance simultaneously hates and admires. “What do you want to do today, Lance?”

Lance shivers. “Um, I didn’t think that far,” he admits.

Keith lets out a breathy laugh. It’s slowly becoming Lance’s favourite sound. And then his voice drops about an octave. “Then you’ll take what I give you. Is that how you want it?”

It’s as much a flirtatious line as a request for permission, Lance can tell. On his end, his dick twitches in his pants and he gives a whimper— apparently, his body already knows what it wants before his mind has even had a chance to register it. “Mmhmm,” he forces out.

"Are you on the bed?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. I want you to take off your clothes, and get the lube."

Lance does so, this time without hesitation, his clothes practically flying off with how eager he is. Then he puts his phone on speaker and sets it to the side.

"I want you to finger yourself for me. Get yourself all ready for my cock."

Lance whimpers, again, pressing a slick finger to his entrance. His hole twitches involuntarily. He imagines Keith, watching and smirking at how eager Lance is. He pushes it in, feeling himself tighten around it, and moans.

"Good boy," Keith says, and Lance is surprised at how attuned he's become to those two words— how, like the flip of a switch, his body reacts with an uninhibited shudder. 

Eager to please, he thrusts a second finger inside of himself. They fit nice and snug, and he shifts them slowly, getting accustomed to the feeling. Wishing they were Keith's fingers, and wondering what they would feel like. His hands would be rougher, for sure, and just thinking that has Lance letting out a soft moan. The heat simmering in the pit of his stomach starts to spread, and his toes curl. 

“You’re such a good boy,” Keith says, “so hard just for me.”

Keith is right. His dick is already standing at full attention, just from the power of imagination, and the power of a couple words of praise, sprinkled here and there. He’d be feeling much more shy about it if he didn’t have urgent matters to attend to. He reaches a hand towards his cock, and then Keith says, "Are you touching your cock, Lance?"

"I- I was about to," he replies honestly.

"Did I give you permission to jerk yourself off?"

_ Fuck. _

"No," Lance breathes. His cock is suddenly painfully, achingly hard. He slowly slides his hand away and clutches the sheets, trembling a little.

"Remember what I said last time?” He can hear, distinctly, the smirk in Keith’s voice. “I said you could come just from being fingered. So that’s what you’re going to do. You're going to come from just this, and if you put on a good show for me, then I might just reward you.”

Lance feels himself grow hot all over. Damn, Keith is  _ good  _ at creating incentive. He thrusts his fingers deeper inside himself relentlessly, spreading his legs and shifting his hips until he finds the right angle and—  _ oh— oh God.  _ His mouth falls open and his body shudders and jerks forward, cock rubbing against the sheets, and he  _ whines. _

“Shit,” Keith says, breathless. “ _ Lance. _ ”

“Oh God—” Lance thrusts his fingers, pressing against the same spot again and again, chasing the sensation. “I’m— I’m gonna—” He barely chokes it out before he comes, splattering onto the sheets, body taut as a string and then he snaps, falling forward.

Keith talks him through it. “You did so well, Lance,” he says, the words curling close to Lance’s chest. Even so, something burns unsatisfied inside of him. And then he remembers what Keith had said earlier.

“Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“You said,” Lance breathes, “that if I did well… you’d give me a reward.”

Keith audibly swallows. “Yeah. I did.” He pauses. “Can you go again?”

“Yeah,” Lance says without a moment’s hesitation, his voice wavering with how badly he wants it. In truth, he’s not sure if he can go again, but hell if he’s not willing to try.

“You sure?”

“Please,” he says, desperately. “Please fuck me.”

Keith  _ groans  _ low in his throat, and Lance feels it in his toes. He doesn’t think he’s heard Keith sound like this before, and feels a little wellspring of pride surge up within him. 

“I’m gonna,” Keith says, all choppy and rushed. “Gonna fuck you, now, gonna push inside that tight little hole and fuck you till you’re screaming my name.”

Lance thrusts his fingers back inside himself all at once and feels like he’s on  _ fire _ , desire scorching him from the inside out. It’s almost too much— he’s still hyper-sensitive, every drag of his fingers against his walls burning hot, hot— his body writhing as he throws his head back and moans.

“You feel so good, Lance,  _ fuck, _ ” Keith breathes, raspy, and Lance whimpers— Keith is  _ inside him,  _ filling him from the inside out— whispering in his ear, gripping his hips and thrusting with reckless abandon. With no warning, he’s pushed over the edge again, his body seizing with pleasure as he comes hard, groaning Keith’s name. His second orgasm hits harder, knocks the breath out of him and wrings him dry. His body twitches with the aftershocks, and he presses his face into the pillow, taking heaving, shuddering breaths.

He rolls over onto his back, his head pounding and his vision swimming a little. Damn. He’s done it again— gotten off to the most  _ incredible  _ phone sex of his life. He’s only barely recollected himself when he hears movement on the other end and Keith, in a clipped, hurried voice, saying, “Sorry, Lance, I’ve gotta go.”

“Wait,” Lance says, before he can stop himself. 

To his surprise, Keith actually waits. “What is it?” His voice is a little shaky. Lance is too tired to register why.

“I— that was—” A million thoughts run through Lance’s mind, none of which seem to have words attached to them. So instead, he says, “Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem at all.” Keith replies, with an edge of amusement, like he’s in on some inside joke that Lance isn’t. And then he hangs up, just like that.

Lance throws an arm over his face, boneless. He should be downright glowing from not one, but two amazing orgasms, but instead he feels tired and unsatisfied. Not that the experience was lacking— in fact, it had been fucking incredible. That first time had apparently only been a taste. Everything about Keith has him hooked, from the easy seductiveness of his husky voice to the subtle authoritative tone to the skill, like he knows exactly what he’s doing, filling in all of Lance’s gaps in experience. But what confuses him is that this Keith was so incongruent with the Keith that he’d talked to on the phone before the sex started. It doesn’t make any sense that Keith the conspiracy theorist could be the same Keith that slipped into the role of a dom like a fish into water.

If he knows one thing, it’s that Pidge was wrong after all. The more he talks to Keith, the more questions he has. And he supposes there’s really only one plausible solution to that. Too sleep-dazed to think about the consequences, he adds Keith’s numbers to his contacts and tosses the piece of paper with Nyma’s perfect handwriting into the trash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> twitter: [@redbeantofu](http://twitter.com/redbeantofu)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, i'm alive!! sorry for the wait. i honestly started this fic with little idea of which direction it would head in, but i have a few things planned out now so hopefully updates will come a bit faster. 
> 
> also, happy new year! \o/

“Did you know I have you on speed dial?” Lance says, voice a little breathy and muddled with hazy desire. He’s on all fours on the bed, ass high in the air, tracing his entrance with a slick, shaky finger, the way Keith asked him to. It’s been just over two weeks, and he’s gotten pretty good at following instructions, almost as good as Keith is at giving them. He’s also good at running his mouth in the middle of sex, apparently.

“I’m flattered,” Keith replies lowly. “Did you know your ass tastes good?”

“Hnnnnn,” Lance groans. “That’s dirty.”

“It’s the truth,” Keith says. “Your ass is beautiful. I just want to take a bite out of it.”

“What the hell,” Lance whines, his fingers digging involuntarily into his ass cheek, surprised at the little jolt of pleasure he feels. “That should not be remotely as hot as it is.” 

Keith chuckles. “Now I’m gonna lick your perfect little hole, get you all wet.” Just picturing it, Lance feels his hole twitch and lets out a small, breathless sound. “I’m gonna lick inside, fuck, you’re so good, so tight.”

Lance slips a finger in and whimpers helplessly. He pushes it in until it’s knuckle-deep, thrusts it a couple times, just shy of reaching where he needs it to. 

“I’m going to finger you too, stretch you out, just like that.” Immediately, Lance adds another, thrusting them until he finds his prostate and then crying out as his whole body trembles. 

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” Keith says, voice thick with approval. 

“Mmh,” Lance says, heat rushing all the way to his ears. 

“You look so gorgeous like this, you know,” Keith comments. “Your legs spread, your hole all wet just for me. You’re so hard, aren’t you?”

Lance’s dick throbs and he drives his hips into the mattress, letting out a stifled cry at how damn good the friction feels. He loses all sense of rhythm and self-restraint, fingering himself messily and rubbing himself off against the sheets, pleasure building into a white-hot peak, a cry escaping from his throat as he comes.

His body tingles pleasantly, after. And then he realizes he forgot to reply, so he says, “Hah, not anymore.”

“Fuck, Lance,” Keith says, voice unsteady. 

“Hmm yeah, you can fuck me next time,” Lance says, rolling bonelessly over onto his back. He reaches out his arm in a half-assed effort to tug his sheets over himself, only to find that they’re out of reach and gives up. “What’re you getting up to tonight?”

“Not much,” Keith says, a bit absentmindedly. “Studying, I guess.”

“I’m getting,” Lance pauses to take a breath, “dinner with Hunk. Takeout. Don’t feel like walking.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Oh, right, I still gotta call him to tell him to order takeout for us.”

“Why don’t you just order it yourself?”

“Because,” Lance says, as if explaining a math problem to a grade schooler. “He’s my number one on speed dial and that’s nine less digits to type in.”

“Add the restaurant to your speed dial, then.”

Lance rolls his eyes. “God, Keith, I don’t have that many free spaces on speed dial. I have friends and family.”

Keith doesn’t answer to that. Probably busy, Lance figures. He doesn’t know why he always tries to stay on the line afterwards. How many times has he called Keith in the past two weeks, anyway? He knows Keith has other things to do, and yet it feels kinda wrong just to hang up like that. Like he’s just using Keith as a means to an end.

Which he isn’t. Well, he technically is, but he likes talking to Keith. He really does. Whether or not Keith even likes talking to him, though, is a mystery for another day.

“I’ll leave you to study, then,” Lance says cheerily. “Have a good night.”

“Yeah. Good night,” Keith says, and it sounds like he’s smiling, which is enough.

 

-

 

The sex is amazing, which is to be expected. Naturally, there are limitations on what you can do when your partner isn’t physically present, but a little creativity goes a long way. Mostly, Keith spends his time telling Lance all the dirty things he wants to do to him, and Lance compensates with his fingers which, depending on the scenario, are sometimes Keith’s fingers, other times Keith’s cock, and occasionally his tongue. The power of imagination. Still, there was probably lots more that could be done. Keith had asked if Lance owned any toys, and hadn’t pressed after Lance answered that he didn’t— he’s honestly never experimented that much beyond sticking his fingers up his ass and discovering he liked it. But at this point, Lance is seriously considering investing in one due to his burning curiosity.

“You don’t actually have to get one,” Keith says.

“I want one,” Lance says with confidence. “Honestly, it sounds like an experience. Like something I should tick off my bucket list before I die: ‘shoved a piece of plastic up my ass— check.’”

“Wow, just hearing that is giving me a raging boner,” Keith says, voice dripping with sarcasm, and Lance giggles.

“It’s too late to go out and get one now, though,” he says, casting a quick glance at the clock. “Not that I have any problem coming from your cock, you know. I like it when you fuck me hard,” he says.

Keith groans. “You have no idea what it does to me when you say things like that.”

“Then let’s get on with it,” Lance says, with a smirk.

“Get yourself ready for me, baby,” Keith says, and Lance doesn’t stop the full-body shudder that hits him, having long since accepted the fact that he totally gets off on being ordered around. “You should straddle me, so I can get a good view.”

Lance gets up onto his knees. The lube’s already nearby, and he gets some onto his fingers. Then, feeling bold, he pushes two in at once and his mouth falls open with a cry.

“In a hurry, are we?” Keith says, breathy. 

“I just really want you to fuck me,” Lance says, flushing hard at the way his voice cracks at the end. He thrusts his fingers deeper, trying to mask the sound with a moan of pleasure. 

“God,” Keith breathes, voice husky, and there’s the faint sound of fabric being rubbed. Lance stills for a second, wondering if he’s heard wrong, or if it’s not actually what he thinks it is. But Keith keeps going. “You look so good like this. You’re perfect.” Lance whimpers, adding a third finger. 

“I’m gonna run my hands all over you,” Keith says. “I just want to touch you wherever I can reach.” Lance trails the fingers of his free hand up his inner thigh, feeling his legs turn to jelly as he imagines Keith’s observant gaze, his touch, appreciative and tantalizingly slow. “I can’t wait to be inside you.”

“Hhhnn,” Lance whines, because fuck, that’s unfair. His legs are going to give out if Keith keeps talking like that. 

_ “Fuck,”  _ Keith groans, long and drawn out, and Lance hears the unmistakable sound of a zipper being undone. Keith’s voice is getting shaky. “Lie back for me.” 

Lance falls back on the bed, heart racing at an impossible speed. He spreads his legs apart, presenting himself to Keith. 

“I’m gonna fuck you,” Keith says, and he sounds breathless and hurried, and Lance closes his eyes and pictures Keith with his hand wrapped around his cock, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been this turned on in his  _ life. _

“It feels so good inside you, you’re so— tight.” Keith pants, and groans, and yep, that’s definitely the sound of him stroking his cock. Lance thrusts his fingers in all at once, the jolt of pleasure when he hits his prostate making him dig his heels into the mattress and cry out. 

“Keith, please,  _ fuck—”  _ He fucks himself on his fingers, hard and fast, mirroring the sound of Keith’s grunts with the thrusting of his own fingers.

_ “Lance,”  _ Keith groans, and Lance is almost ashamed of how quickly he comes upon hearing his name, hot come spurting all over his own stomach. It takes him a couple moments to wind down, a couple moments for the impossible to sink in— Keith is  _ jerking off  _ to this.

Or, well,  _ was,  _ because there seems to be no sign of movement on the other end. 

“Did that feel good for you?” Keith says, sounding like he’s trying to contain himself. 

“Yeah,” Lance says, still breathing hard. He doesn’t pull his fingers out, but rather, starts thrusting them again, slowly. “Ah—  _ ah _ .” He squirms, twisting to the side. Damn, he’s feeling really sensitive, fingering himself so soon after he’s just come.

Keith swallows thickly. “Lance, what are you—”

“You haven’t come yet,” Lance says. “I wanna make you come.”

He’s dimly aware, even as he says it, that it’s a turning point. That he’s subverting the basis of their relationship, toeing a line they haven’t crossed. The rational part of him tells him he should say no more. But the part of him that is fully aware that Keith has a hand wrapped around his cock begs to differ.

Keith lets out a badly stifled groan, like he’s biting the back of his hand. “It’s not about me,” he says.

“But I want to make you feel good, too.”

Silence stretches out for a long moment. “Lance,” Keith says finally, sounding like a man teetering on the edge of a precipice. “You really don’t have to.”

“I really want to,” Lance says, all the breath leaving him in a rush. 

And Keith snaps. “Fuck,” he says, and his voice sounds broken, like  _ really _ broken. And then his breath hitches, and he gasps, and Lance can hear the mattress squeak and he’s really— he’s really jerking off. Lance just about stops breathing, listening to Keith’s ragged, hurried breaths, feeling his body burn,  _ singe  _ with desire. He never knew he could do this to Keith. He never knew what it would be like to know, fully know, that Keith was enjoying it, too.

He rolls onto his stomach, shoves himself back on his fingers and moans, body shaking with how good it feels. He’s rubbing into the mattress now, whimpering and trembling uncontrollably with each brush of his fingers against his oversensitized walls. 

“Lance—” Keith chokes out. “Lance, you feel so  _ good— _ ” It’s choppy, hurried, and entirely genuine, and Lance bites the pillow to muffle a whine. 

“Fuck me,” Lance begs. “Fuck me harder, I wanna feel you come inside me.”

“Hah— gh—!” Keith makes a choked noise, uncontrolled and unmistakable in nature, and Lance hears a  _ thump _ — he pictures Keith, coming all over his fist, head thrown back and hitting the wall and that’s really all he needs to come a second time. His orgasm can only be described as violent, tremors rocking fiercely through him, hips stuttering even though he barely comes anything at all. And when he’s done, he melts into a goddamn puddle and tries to remember how to breathe.

“Fuck,” says Keith, who is also on a whole new level of breathless. He sounds  _ wrecked.  _ Lance’s soul ascends to heaven. Or hell, depending how you look at it.

“Wow,” Lance says, with a dopey smile that makes his cheeks hurt, because Keith  _ likes _ this, likes what they’re doing enough to come with Lance’s name falling from his lips. At the back of his mind he’d always thought that maybe Keith was just a really good actor. But now, everything is beginning to rearrange itself.

“Yeah,” says Keith. “Wow.”

“So…” Lance swallows. They should probably talk about this. Hell, Lance wants to talk about this. “So. That just happened.” Wow. Great. Lance really is a master of the English language. He should think about switching majors.

“It did,” says Keith. And then his tone of voice shifts into something akin to panic. “I… shit. I gotta go.”

And then the line goes dead, because Keith hangs up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to hmu on twitter @redbeantofu!


	4. Chapter 4

Lance spends the entire night, and the subsequent day, wondering what the hell went wrong. Just when he’d thought he was sure Keith was enjoying this too, he’d hung up so abruptly, just like that.

Mentally, he runs through the possibilities:

  1. Keith, upon realizing he’d jerked off to Lance, was hit with an immediate wave of regret since he didn’t actually like Lance at all.
  2. Keith had never jerked off to Lance and had faked an orgasm to make Lance happy. Which, y’know, was plausible. Since Lance was, after all, a client.
  3. No, no. He should keep his chin up. Glass half full, and all that jazz. Like, maybe there was an emergency and he really _did_ have to go. Maybe the family dog ate some chocolate someone left lying around. In that case, he should probably call and make sure the dog wasn’t dead or anything.



Yeah, yeah. He knows he’s just making excuses even as he picks up the phone. But despite the way his nerves seize up with anxiety, he’s still gotta know. Even if Keith hates him— even if the very possibility makes his heart sink like a stone. For closure, he repeats to himself. For closure.

Keith picks up after a total of five long rings, during which Lance’s heart nearly stops functioning. “Hey there,” he says all sultry, in his work voice, and Lance steels himself.

“Hey, Keith. It’s me.”

Keith drops the sex voice immediately. “Oh. Hey, Lance. I was hoping you’d call.”

Lance’s heart skips a beat. “Me? Why?”

Keith sighs. “Well, I thought I should probably say sorry.”

Lance blinks, completely caught off-guard. “Dude. What?”

“I, uh,” He pauses, like he’s confessing something important. “I jerked off to you. Yesterday.”

“Yeah, the sky is blue, water’s wet, and I’ve come with you on the phone and my fingers up my ass like ten times now? So why are _you_ apologizing?”

“It’s unprofessional,” Keith explains, a hundred percent serious. Relief bubbles up inside of Lance, releasing itself in the form of laughter. He laughs so hard he clutches his sides to keep them from splitting.

 _“What?”_ Keith says, flustered.

“You literally get paid to have sex,” Lance says. “But jerking off is a no-no.”

“It’s _different!_ ”

“Okay, Keith,” Lance says, helplessly endeared. “So like… you’ve never jerked off to me before yesterday?”

“Well.” Keith exhales. “I’d be lying if I said I’d never jerked off to you afterwards. Just never while you were on the phone.”

Lance swallows. “Oh,” he says, ear-splitting grin back on his face. “Well… Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Both ends of the line are quiet, now.

“You know I liked it, right?” The breath rushes out of Lance all at once. He feels like he’s running a marathon, when really he’s just running his mouth. “You jerking off. It was,” he swallows, “super hot. Please do that again. But you know. Only if you want to.”

“Okay,” says Keith, his voice hiding the edges of a chuckle.

“Okay,” Lance echoes.

“Well then,” says Keith. “Let’s get down to business.”

“To defeat the Huns,” Lance singsongs because he can’t help himself, and then both of them burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

“I swear to God,” Keith says through breathless chuckles, and Lance wonders how the hell making Keith laugh can give him the same adrenaline rush as making Keith come.

“So you _have_ seen some good movies after all,” Lance says, grinning.

“Am I supposed to feel insulted right now?” says Keith. They end up talking about Disney for probably a lot longer than they should. When they do eventually have sex that night, it’s with an easy feeling, a lightness in Lance’s chest. And afterwards, he doesn’t feel so bad about staying on the line just a tad bit longer.

 

-

 

Lance’s heart is pounding the next evening, his palms already sweaty and slick as he quickly wipes off a finger and dials Keith’s number. Keith picks up after one-and-a-half rings.

“Hello there, sexy,” Lance purrs with exaggerated seductiveness into the phone, to hide the shakiness in his voice.

“Don’t mock me,” Keith grunts. “You’d be surprised how many people fall for that line. Actually, you’re one of them.”

“Oh yeah,” Lance says, a little breathy. He clears his throat, trying to compose himself again and willing himself not to move. “I am.”

“…Lance?”

“Mmhmm?” _God,_ he’s going crazy. He can’t stay still. He clutches the sheets in his hand and bites down on his lip.

“Are you touching yourself already?”

“No,” he says, way too high-pitched even though it’s technically not a lie. “Just, ah. I got you a present.”

“You got me a present.” Keith hums, as if turning the idea over in his head, trying to decipher it. But he sounds pleased nonetheless.

“Yeah. Actually, it’s more like I got _me_ a present,” Lance explains. “Given that it’s currently in my ass.”

Keith’s breath hitches. Lance can hear it even above the low sound of the vibrations. “Shit,” he says. “You really went and got one.”

Lance nods and grins, then remembers that Keith can’t see him. Not for the first time, he wonders exactly what Keith looks like. Wonders how Keith would respond, seeing Lance, already achingly hard like this.

“And you prepared yourself for me.” Keith shifts from his initial disbelief back to a sultry tone.

“What can I say?” Lance hums. “I’m a people pleaser.” _Not people, just person. Just you,_ he thinks, but doesn’t say.

“Did you like that, Lance? Stretching yourself open for me. Getting yourself ready to be fucked.”

“Mmhhm,” says Lance. He did— it’d taken a while to get the vibrator in, but he’d thought of Keith the whole time. He likes _this,_ though, even better— loves getting drunk on how pleased and admiring Keith sounds.

“Very good,” Keith purrs. “Here’s how this is going to work. You’re going to do what I say, and you’re not going to come until I say so. Are we good?”  

“Yeah.” Lance swallows hard, skin already burning.

“You’ll be a good boy for me, won’t you?” What he’d said earlier was a request for permission, to make sure they were on the same page; now, Keith’s words are a promise, a challenge, the undercurrent of his voice already making Lance tense up with eager anticipation.

“I will,” Lance says breathlessly. “I’ll be good for you.”

“Good,” says Keith. “What setting are you on?”

Right, the vibe. “The lowest one,” Lance says. He didn’t want to come before he got on the phone with Keith.

“Keep it there,” Keith tells him. “Now I want you to take it out.”

Lance lets out a very confused whine.

“I want you to take it out, and push it in the way I would, fuck yourself on my cock nice and slow for me. You’ll do that for me, won’t you?”

“Mmh,” says Lance, and reaches for the base of the vibrator, pulling it out as slow as he can bear to. The slightest movement has his nerves singing with pleasure. Keith is right— it feels deliciously good like this, the pleasure he’s seeking just beyond his reach. He pushes the vibrator back in and pleasure shoots up his spine like lightning. He keeps going at Keith’s teasingly slow pace, moaning unabashedly as his toes curl and his free hand flounders and grapples at the sheets. He’s slick with sweat now, body trembling with the need for more. “More, please,” he breathes. “I— I need more.”

“You’re so hard for me. Just look at you.” Keith’s breathing has grown harsh, and Lance knows by now what this means. Still, his voice doesn’t surrender that sense of control. “Touch yourself for me, Lance.”

It’s as if he knows Lance was _waiting_ for this. He doesn’t need to be told twice— his hand flies to his cock and he strokes it, desperate and rough, flicking his thumb across the slit. “Ah—” His legs snap closed, only to remind him of the vibrations pulsing in his ass.

“Yeah, just like that,” says Keith, and when Lance hears the telltale sound of him jerking himself off, heat floods through his body. He thrusts the vibe in, faster, to match Keith’s rhythm.

“Gorgeous.” Keith groans. “You look so pretty like this— like you were made to fuck yourself on my cock.”

“I’m yours,” Lance blurts out, and then flushes, _hard._ It’s a good thing Keith can’t see him.

“Good boy,” says Keith. Lance presses the vibe in deeper, letting out staccato whimpers. “You feel so good, too. I’m all the way in now, gonna take my time. I want to feel you, all of you. I want to take your nipples in my mouth and suck.”

Lance pauses his ministrations on his cock and lets both hands slide up his chest, thumbs flicking over his nipples and _fuck—_ his back arches off the bed and the vibrator hits a different angle and he cries out. It’s so close to his prostate, he knows it. Shakily, he grips the base. “Keith— harder— fuck me harder—”

“I will, baby— turn it up for me.”

Lance’s hand fumbles for the button and he slams it. Immediately, his body seizes up as a wave of indescribable pleasure crashes into him. His mouth falls open in a series of incoherent noises.

“You sound _so_ good like this—” Lance hears it in his voice, in the rhythmic movement of what he knows is Keith fucking into his fist. “Fuck, Lance, I can’t hold back anymore—” He cuts off with a guttural groan that has Lance keening, grinding down and pushing the vibrator in as far as it’ll go, and when he hits his prostate he disintegrates into a whimpering mess. Moving almost beyond his control, he works the vibe in and out, in and out, shaking with how good it feels. His cock is an angry red, leaking everywhere, and it takes all his willpower not to touch himself again because he knows what’ll happen if he does. He wants to come, needs it like oxygen, but he wants so badly to be good for Keith. “I wanna come,” he begs. “Please— can I—”

“Yeah, fuck yeah, baby, wanna hear you come—” Keith’s voice actually breaks, and with it goes the last of Lance’s composure as he tumbles over the edge, shouting Keith’s name and splattering the sheets with come. He hears the hoarse cry ripped from Keith’s throat almost immediately after, and thinks to himself— holy shit, holy _shit._

The vibrator’s still churning inside him when he comes back to his senses. He lets out a whine, and tries to get his trembling arm to cooperate and move. Every single movement sets his nerves on fire until he finally hits the button to shut it off and slowly, biting his trembling lower lip, pulls it out and tosses it beside him on the bed.

“Thank you for the present,” Keith says, voice husky and amused. “It was great. You were very good today.”

Lance makes an embarrassed noise into the pillow. “Thank you,” he breathes, “for letting me come.”

A breathless noise of disbelief. “ _Shit,_ Lance.” A pause. “You tired? Get yourself cleaned up, okay?”

“Mm, later, too comfy right now.” Lance smiles into the pillow, feeling lightheaded with how content he is. With Keith’s voice by his ear, it almost feels like he’s right there next to Lance, and that alone makes warmth bloom in his chest. He doesn’t have the capacity to think more on that before muttering a quick “‘Night” and falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this has mostly been a pwp so far, but things will start to pick up in terms of plot Very Soon... there's still gonna be porn, of course, i know what you're all here for :^)
> 
> also THAT SEASON 2 TRAILER... please come talk to me on twitter: [redbeantofu](http://twitter.com/redbeantofu) and we can cry over shirtless klance together


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys asked for keith's pov, and i delivered :^)
> 
> thanks toast for inspiring sudoku keith, the keith we never knew we needed <3

Keith has had a whole lot of clients. He doesn’t remember most of their names or personal details, preferring to file them away in his mind under four categories for convenience. The first is what he calls the ‘no homo’ crew. These are the guys who haven’t done this before and usually take two seconds to come, who hang up wordlessly or forcefully assert their heterosexuality to assuage their guilt, as if Keith was going to parade around declaring their sexual fantasies to the world. He doesn’t hate them, or blame them for denying it. Being shoved around and called slurs isn’t most people’s idea of a good time; he knows that firsthand. And he sure as hell isn’t planning to tell their wives or girlfriends, as long as he gets the money.

The second is the guys who know what they want and how to get it. These guys pitch full-fledged fantasies that Keith only needs to participate in. He likes their bottomless wallets and the fact that he can do his own thing while he’s on the line with them. The kinks don’t always align with his own, but all he has to do is moan here and there and they’ll basically bring themselves to climax all while Keith works through his Sudoku book. Some of them were total dicks, pretty pushy with their demands, and generally viewed him as a vessel of their sexual fantasies rather than a real human being. But he’s not the type to dwell on it. To him it’s a perfect business transaction. They’d never ask about his day, and he’d never ask about their personal lives. He’d never know how they came to have such weird kinks, and they’d never know how many pages of Sudoku he finished while on the line with them.

The third category is female callers, which are few and far in between. In terms of kinks, they fall on various ends of the spectrum, but most of them are a lot more respectful than the male ones. The only callers who’d ever thanked him had been female. (Lance McClain is an outlier and should not be counted.) So despite being as gay as humanly possible, the female callers had been Keith’s favourite category up until now.

Until Lance McClain walked into his life and fucked up his Sudoku routine. It was kind of unsettling how easily Lance shattered Keith’s expectations. He hadn’t expected the guy who called the wrong number to call back. He hadn’t expected him to have such a hot voice, either. And he definitely hadn’t expected to ever jerk off to a client. He’d never been so turned on that his hand just flew right to his dick like that. And yeah, he definitely had a moment or two of panic, because like he said, it _was_ unprofessional to mix work with personal pleasure. But he was a rational sort of guy, and so he managed to convince himself that it was fine to enjoy the perks of a job just a little, so long as he didn’t actually think of Lance as being more than a client. Which was not going to happen.

It’s hard to pinpoint what it is about Lance that affects him. Maybe it’s just been a while since somebody asked him to dom. Usually, he’s the sub to some pushy, aggressive dom. Keith likes to think of himself as a switch, but funnily enough, being treated like a sex toy on a daily basis has kind of veered him away from bottoming. Or maybe topping someone as naturally submissive as Lance has simply converted him to the lifestyle. In any case, he hasn’t jerked off to anything but the idea of fucking Lance in weeks.

His phone rings, right then. Speak of the devil. Keith picks up and puts Lance on speaker.

“Hey,” he says.

“Sup, my dude,” Lance says cheerily.

“Your dick, hopefully soon.”

Lance barks out a laugh. “Oh my Goooood, that was so bad. Do you even think about what comes out of your mouth?”

“You might want to be careful what you say to me,” Keith says, smug, “or maybe I won’t let you come at all tonight.” He hears Lance swallow hard, and continues. “I wonder what I should do to you today. What do I feel like doing? Hmm.”

It’s playful bait for Lance to tell him what _he_ wants. Lance knows this, and takes it. “Oh, I have a great idea. I’m full of those, you know.”

“Full of yourself, too,” Keith quips back.

“Shut up!” A pause. “You know that thing we did with the vibrator, a couple days back? Let’s do that again, but like, amped up.”

Keith likes this train of thought. Very, very much. “And how exactly do you want it amped up?”

“Like…” His voice takes on the coy tone it always does when he’s making a request, fleshing out a fantasy. Just shy of being shy, deliberately demure. “Maybe you should punish me if I’m bad.”

Train of thought is now running full speed ahead. “If you’re bad,” he says cautiously, “maybe I should bend you over my knee and spank you raw.”

Lance actually _moans_ , Jesus Christ. “Yeah,” he says, breathless. “Do it.”

“You’re not supposed to want the punishment,” Keith remarks bemusedly. “That’s not how it works.”

“Ohhh, sorry, I mean I’m cowering at the thought. Quaking in my boots.”

Keith laughs. “You on the bed?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Alright. You’ll do as I say, and you won’t get yourself off or come until I say so. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“And you’ll tell me to stop if you want me to at any time.”

“Okay.”

Keith shifts in his chair, settling in a comfortable position. No, not good enough. He’s really in the mood now. He gets up and moves to the bed, taking the phone with him. This way it was easier to imagine Lance there in front of him. As easy as it could be without having an accurate picture of Lance, anyway. They’d given brief descriptions of their own physical appearance in the first week, so he has a vague picture— short brown hair, eager blue eyes, probably a light blush on tanned skin.

“Okay, baby, open yourself up for me nice and slow.”

A slick, wet sound. Lance fingering himself, letting out short, airy breaths that go right to Keith’s groin.

“Okay,” Lance says after a while. “‘M ready for it.”

“Good,” says Keith. “You can put it in now.”

He hears a gasp, a drawn-out breath, and then Lance squirming, adjusting to the feeling.

“Turn it on and turn it up.”

Now, Keith can pick up the sound of the vibrations. “Mmh,” Lance half-moans, half-whimpers. He sounds desperate already. “Keith…”

Heat spreads through his body. Keith’s dick feels trapped in his pants, so he takes them off. He thinks of all the things he has at his disposal— eyeing the bottle of lube perched at the end of his desk, he figures, why the hell not. He grabs the bottle, pops it open and, peeling off his leather gloves, pours some on his fingers.

“Suck my cock.”

Lance lets out a confused noise. Keith chuckles. “Put your fingers in your mouth and suck.”

“Oh, okay,” Lance says. “How big are you?”

Keith has no idea why that’s as endearing as it is. “Put in as many as you want.”

Lance does as told, moaning shamelessly around the digits in his mouth, making loud, wet sucking noises. Keith swipes a thumb over his foreskin, mimicking the movement of Lance’s tongue, and his hips jerk up into his fist. He can’t tell if Lance is just eager or deliberately being a tease, and wagers it’s a bit of both. “Hah,” he breathes. “Yeah, just like that.” Still, Lance’s composure seems a little too intact for this to go anywhere. “Turn it up again,” he says, and Lance does so. The low sound of vibrations speeds up, and Lance whines shakily around the fingers in his mouth. His sucking grows sloppier, messier, the moans becoming less for show and becoming genuine sounds elicited in the midst of pleasure. Keith matches Lance’s rhythm as he strokes himself. He usually likes it rough, but this time it’s better with the lube— he can imagine the hot wetness of Lance’s mouth, letting out choked noises of his own.

Lance audibly slurps, and Keith bucks up into his hand, mind hazy as he thinks of hitting the back of Lance’s throat— God, it’d be so good, Lance would take it so well. “I want to fuck your mouth,” he says, barely aware of how rough his voice sounds.

Lance _keens_ , mouth still stuffed full. He pulls off with a _pop._ “Please,” he says, brokenly, before pushing his fingers back in hurriedly and that’s really all Keith needs. He lets loose, throws his head back, hips snapping forward as he digs his fingers into the sheets. With every thrust, Lance groans even louder, every uninhibited noise making his desire build to a peak. Just when he thinks he’s almost there, Keith hears the sound of Lance shoving his face into the pillow, letting out muffled, choked noises. And definitely rutting forward against the mattress. He wonders how much of that is Lance being driven wild by the vibrator in his ass— and how much of it is Lance purposely playing into his own desire to be punished. He supposes he’ll find out.

“Lance,” he says, slow and deliberate.

“Mmhmm?” Lance says, nearly breathless and still managing to coat his voice with false innocence, and well, there’s his answer.

“Do you remember the rules?”

“You told me not to touch myself. And I’m not.”

Keith can’t help it— the corner of his lip curls up into a smile. Of course Lance would try to bend the rules, push the limits and see how much he could get away with, even knowing full well the end result. “I told you not to _get yourself off_ ,” Keith says, his stance firm. “And that’s exactly what you’re doing.”

“Whoops,” Lance says, high-pitched. “Sorry.”

“You don’t sound sorry.” Keith hums low in his throat. “I think I need to teach you a lesson.”

The mutual understanding that this was what they’d both been waiting for hangs in the silence. “On my lap,” he commands. “Bend over.” And while he hardly has to act around Lance anymore, he drops his voice seductively, knowing it’ll send chills up the other’s spine when he says, “You might want to make yourself comfortable, because you’re not going anywhere until I’m done with you.”

Lance _whines_ , and Keith feels his heart pounding in his chest. There’s a tension there, a sense of _is he really going to do this._ Because despite the illusion of Keith’s control, Lance is completely at his own mercy here. Whatever Lance does is simply a testament to how much he wants to be punished, how far he’s willing to go to please Keith.

“You gonna be a good boy?”

“Yes,” Lance breathes. “Yes.”

“Then count each one out loud for me.” Because Keith isn’t there. Because he wants to know, needs to know how many are needed to drive Lance to his breaking point.

The first _smack_ rings out loud as Lance moans in surprise around the word _one._ Keith drags his hand over his own cock, enjoying the sensation. “Two,” Lance moans. “Three— four.” Again, and again, the sounds getting louder as he counts up to ten.

“‘S not enough,” Lance whimpers. “Want more. Want it to hurt more.”

Keith’s life flashes before his eyes.

“What’ve you got,” he says, barely able to contain his voice. “Anything that can hit harder?”

Lance shifts, moves around, digging in his drawers. “A ruler.”

“Good, we can work with that.” He waits for Lance to rearrange himself, relishes the weak, breathy noises of anticipation. “Let’s try it out, see how it feels. Tell me if it’s too much.”

Lance cries out as the ruler slaps against his skin. “God,” he moans. “Yes. _Please._ ”

And Keith is more than happy to oblige. “Give yourself twenty more and count each one.”

With every slap, every broken count, Keith fucks hard into his fist, heat coursing like electricity through his body. The numbers peter out into unintelligible noises until Lance sounds so far gone that Keith’s head spins.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you,” Keith says. “Slut. You should see yourself. Your cock leaking everywhere, rutting on my leg like an animal in heat. Bet you could come just from being spanked.”

The sound Lance makes is downright illegal. He’s absolutely wrecked, and even so he spanks himself harder. Keith can picture it— his ass red, his pretty little hole clenching around the vibrator, a puddle of drool forming where his face meets the pillow. “Fuck, _Lance,”_ Keith groans and Lance _sobs,_ thrashes on the bed, the sheets rustling wildly. Keith’s entire body throbs almost painfully with desire, overcome with a wave of _need_ unlike anything else just as Lance cries out, shaky and muffled into the pillow, driving his hips into the mattress, a string of incoherent babbles falling as he reaches his orgasm. A raw groan rips from Keith’s throat and he squeezes his eyes shut as he fucks his fist into climax, spilling violently all over his hand.

The room spins as Keith catches his breath. The vibrating sound comes to a halt, and he listens to Lance’s high-pitched, fast breathing grow slower. Did that actually just happen? Was Lance even _real?_ Keith was a devout atheist, but he was pretty sure this was the closest he’d ever come to a religious experience. Who knew all he needed in order to see the light of God was phone sex with Lance McClain? Somebody should’ve told his old foster parents. They would’ve gotten a real kick out of this.

“You were so good,” Keith says, unable to keep the smile out of his voice. “Such a good boy. You took it so well, I’m so proud of you.”

Lance whimpers softly. “Thank you,” he says, voice small.

Keith feels a stutter in his chest. “How are you feeling?”

“Hurts,” Lance says, and the stutter turns into a pang of guilt. He reminds himself that Lance hadn’t bottomed before Keith, so he’d probably never done this sort of thing— hell, for all he knew Lance could be a total virgin. (If he was, then he was definitely some kind of sex prodigy.) “It’s not bad,” Lance adds quickly. “Not as bad when you do it yourself. You know, like how you can’t tickle yourself? It’d be better if you were here to do it to me, aha.” A nervous chuckle.

 _If you were here._ Keith doesn’t even know how to answer around the lump in his throat. “Can I touch you?”

He hears Lance swallow. “Mmhmm.”

Keith racks his brain for what he knows are the proper steps. “Do you have any lotion?”

“Oh… yeah,” says Lance. Keith hears the sound of the bed creaking— Lance lets out a small moan at the movement— and the drawer opening. Then, a bottle popping. “Got it~”

“Good. Stay still, okay? Let me just run my hands over you for a sec. Can you show me where it hurts?”

“Here,” says Lance, soft. Keith’s hand twitches with the urge to reach out, to touch, to make it better even though he knows now with startling clarity that Lance is not there.

“I’m rubbing it in slow, and gentle.” Given Lance’s predisposition to follow instructions to a T, he assumes— hopes— he’s doing the same right now. “Does it feel better?”

“Yeah,” Lance sighs. “Yeah, it really does. Thanks.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” says Keith. “It’s part of the job.” Only partially a lie. “Take a warm bath, okay? It’ll help. Just make sure the water’s not too hot.”

“Okay Keith, I’ll try not to burn my ass off,” Lance quips back. Back to normal, huh. Keith cracks a smile.

Lance hangs up shortly after, leaving Keith to wipe up his own sticky mess with a tissue. It didn’t strike him till later that it was the first time he’d roleplayed aftercare. And it’d been completely unintentional, too. He wishes more people would ask him to do this. It’d be nice if he could get paid to rub lotion on people all day. But he doubts it’d feel as good as doing it to Lance.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter became really long and i ended up splitting it in two so... the next one should be up soon!
> 
> in the meantime, come find me:
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/redbeantofu)   
>  [tumblr](http://lotorlance.tumblr.com)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i forgot to post this last time, but i made a lil fic banner for this, please check it out [here](https://twitter.com/redbeantofu/status/828003475359358977)! i'm linking it now bc you'll probably forget by the end since this chapter is quite packed with content so... yeah

Ever since the spanking sexcapade, there’s been something kind of… off. Lance can’t really put his finger on it. If you told him a month ago that he’d feel genuine happiness from someone pretending to give him a butt massage over the phone, he’d probably have laughed in your face. But he can’t recall ever feeling so good, so cared for.

It starts to happen more and more often. He starts to feel all warm and kinda squishy when he talks to Keith. Like, Keith could be talking about how he’s been stuck on this one Sudoku puzzle for hours and Lance will just catch himself sitting there with a silly smile stretched across his face.

But, like, whatever. It’s the sign of a developing friendship, right? He gets happy when he talks to Hunk, too. And Pidge, even though half the time she speaks in techy slang that sounds like another language to him. But it makes him happy to see her being passionate about the things she likes. That’s exactly what’s going on with Keith. Yep, sure is. Friendship is magic, he thinks to himself as he presses Keith’s number on his phone.

“Hey.” Keith picks up almost immediately. In the spur of the moment, Lance decides to play a little prank.

“Is this Akira?” he says, with his best fake deep voice and slight British accent.

Keith coughs. “What? I thought this was— yes. Sorry.” He coughs again. Lance giggles, muffled into his hand. “What would you like? I’ll do anything you want,” he coos sweetly.

Still in the deep voice, Lance says, “Suck my toes.”

“Mm,” Keith moans, and it’s actually pretty convincing. “Wow. I’ve waited so long for someone to ask me that.” And Lance can’t take it anymore— he bursts into uncontrollable laughter. 

_ “Lance,”  _ Keith almost yells into the phone. “You fucking  _ asshole _ .”

“I got you,” he says through tears. “I got you  _ good.” _

Keith grumbles, “I’m hanging up on you.”

“I love you too,” Lance jokes.

Keith breaks out into a coughing fit.

“Are you okay, buddy?” Lance asks, brow furrowing.

“Just,” Keith rasps, “choked on some dust.”

“Oh. Drink some water.”

“Yeah. Will do.”

He waits for Keith to stop coughing, and fiddles absentmindedly with the buttplug in his hand, thinking of all the great things the two of them could do with it. 

“You got anything in mind for tonight?” Keith asks. “And before you ask, I’m not going anywhere near your toes.”

Lance snickers. “Don’t worry. No toes involved. I was thinking more along the lines of—”

Just then, a knock sounds on his door. “Wait, hold on,” he says to Keith, covering the phone speaker with his hand. “Who is it,” he calls out the door.

“It’s Hunk,” Hunk calls back. “You ready to head out yet?”

“Oh, shit,” Lance curses under his breath. He’d completely forgot that he had plans. Midterm season had just ended, and it was tradition for them to head out to celebrate. “Gimme ten minutes,” Lance hollers back.

“Were you sleeping again?”

“Maybe.” Not exactly a lie. Maybe, maybe not.

“At eight o’clock at night?”

“Don’t tell me how to live my life!” He pauses. “I’ll meet you outside, ‘kay?”

“Sure, just don’t take too long!”

He hears footsteps retreating down the hall of the dorms, and uncovers the speaker on his phone. “Sorry Keith, but, uh, I totally forgot I had plans tonight,” Lance says. “I’ll talk to you later?”

“Yeah, talk to you later.” Keith hangs up pretty quickly, and Lance sighs and looks down at the buttplug in his hand. And then an idea, equal parts horrible and genius, strikes him, and a grin slowly spreads over his face.

 

-

 

Lights, music, and sweaty bodies. Hunk and the other guys he came with are on the dance floor, having what looks like a great time. Normally, Lance would be having the time of his life too, but right now his palms are sweaty for a whole ’nother reason. He’s done some wild things at clubs, but come to think of it, he’s never done anything as crazy as what he’s doing now.

It’s totally fine, though. He knows what he’s doing. All he’s gotta do is wait, let it build up just enough to make his orgasm feel fucking amazing, but not too long or he might come in his pants. He takes a seat at the bar, legs crossed, sipping a cocktail and eyeing the clock on the wall. Every time the bass reverberates through the room, he tries hard not to shiver. Thankfully, no one has tried to chat him up yet— ha, he never thought he’d be thankful for that. Every cloud has a silver lining.

It seems he was thankful too early, though, because just then, a guy that looks to be a little older than Lance’s age saunters over, eyes clearly focused on Lance so that his intentions are unmistakable. The guy is pretty good-looking, objectively. His hair is dyed silver and he’s got this weird, sort of exotic aura. His voice is dangerously sugar-coated as he speaks to Lance. “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here all by yourself?”

Lance almost chokes on his own spit. Damn, even he could come up with a better line than that. “Just, you know. Chilling,” he says, avoiding the guy’s gaze.

“I hope you won’t mind if I join you.” The guy brushes a hand against Lance’s upper arm. It’s not entirely unpleasant. He hasn’t been on the receiving end of this kind of attention since… too long ago. But there’s a reminder currently sitting snugly in his ass, a reminder of what he came here for, and it sure as hell isn’t this guy.

Aha, the irony. The last time he’d come here with the full intention of getting laid, and here, now that someone is showing actual interest in him, all he can think about is Keith. Keith, who he’s paying to indulge in his fantasies. 

The guy’s voice snaps him back to reality again. He’s looking expectantly at Lance, like he’s said something and expects an answer. “I gotta pee,” Lance says, and leaves promptly.

Way to go, Lance. Way to turn down a human being in actual proximity to you for a voice on the phone.

With each step, each time the toy moves inside him, he has to bite his lips so as not to moan. He stumbles his way into the one-room gender neutral bathroom, so that he can be sure no one will come in, and also ’cause it has a counter and he thinks Keith would enjoy bending him over and fucking him there. Slamming the door shut and locking it, he falls forward, propping himself up on his elbows against the counter. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and holy shit, he looks pretty wrecked already. His face is a blotchy red, lips pink from being bitten.

He dials Keith’s number.

“Lance,” Keith says. Just from hearing Keith say his name, Lance has to bite back a whimper. And then Keith pauses, seemingly after hearing all the background noise. “Where are you?”

“Out,” Lance says breathlessly. “I’ve been bad.”

Even above the dull pounding of the beat, he can hear Keith swallow audibly. “Are you in public, Lance?”

“Mhm,” he says. “Bathroom. At a club.”

“A club,” Keith echoes. “And what are you doing there? Are you jerking off?”

“Oh no, it’s nothing like that,” Lance replies with a smile. “I’ve just got a buttplug inside me, that’s all.”

_ “What?” _

“Thought you might like it,” Lance says weakly, “if I got myself ready for you.”

“You— planned this.” He hears Keith curse under his breath, and shivers. “How long have you—”

“A while,” Lance says. “Was waiting for you… but you took so long to get here.”  He isn’t sure what compels him to say what he does next, the alcohol or the rush of adrenaline he seems to get whenever he talks to Keith, but he does it anyway. “I almost went home with somebody else, y’know.”

A lie, of course, just to see how Keith would respond. He didn’t think, though, that it would provoke a reaction of this caliber. “What did you say?” Keith’s tone of voice sends chills down his spine.

“Well there was this guy… pretty hot, too, had a nice voice. He was really into me—” 

“Stop talking.”

Lance’s heart just about stops. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard Keith sound like this before. Every resounding thump of his heart in his chest feels like a premonition.

“Bend over.”

Lance bends over, arching his butt out. He can feel the toy pushing inside of him, just shy of where he needs it to be, and his hands are already shaking where he grips the edge of the counter.

“Now you’re going to do exactly as I say.” He can hear the slow, controlled heaving of Keith’s breaths. “Or there will be consequences. Got it?”

God, Lance is so,  _ so  _ hard.

“Okay,” he says.

“One. Don’t come until I say so.”

Lance swallows hard.

“Two. Spank yourself twenty times on each cheek as hard as you can.”

Lance’s head spins before he even lifts his arm. The first smack has him biting back a cry, not just from the sting of it, but also the intent— the toe-curling sensation of being punished for his transgressions. With each hard smack the toy shifts in him and he rocks forward desperately, though he meets with nothing but thin air. By the time it’s over his ass is stinging painfully.

“Hmm,” Keith says, with the tone of voice of somebody flicking through the channels on TV and getting increasingly bored with what they find. “Changed my mind. Twenty more.”

So Lance does as he’s told, again and again, until his eyes are watering and he’s barely able to stand upright. “Please,” he says without really knowing what he’s begging for.

“Please what?” Keith’s voice is cold.

“Keith,” Lance gasps. “Please—”

“Oh, so now you remember me,” Keith says, and Lance groans with such intense frustration that Keith huffs out a chuckle.

“You’re being pretty loud, you know,” Keith says. “Someone could hear you out there, you know. Hear you begging for my cock.”

Lance whimpers, clutching at the counter for purchase, but his nails just drag uselessly along the smooth surface.

“You want that, don’t you?” Keith’s voice dangerously low. “Want everyone to know that you’re mine.” 

The whine that escapes Lance’s throat is, probably, inhuman. His cock throbs.

“I’m going to fuck you now. I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to scream anything but my name.”

Lance does nearly scream as he reaches behind him, clenching shaky fingers around the base of the plug and thrusts it in hard and fast, hitting his prostate dead on. The side of his face presses into the hard surface of the counter as his mouth falls open with a moan. He’s waited too long— wanted this for too long— that he can’t hold back anymore, stroking his cock with his free hand rough and fast as he continues to thrust the toy inside of him. Within what feels like seconds he reaches his breaking point and his body folds against the counter as he comes violently.

It’s a testament to his willpower that he doesn’t fall to the floor. He pulls out the buttplug and braces a barely cooperating hand against the counter, catching heaving breaths and waiting for the room to stop spinning. Once he’s sure he can move without collapsing, he stumbles over to grab toilet paper and wipes up his mess as thoroughly as he can. With every second that passes, the sobering reality of the situation sinks in.

Keith, on the other end, is unsettlingly silent. Lance tenses up, hoping he hasn’t really made Keith mad. And then it hits him that he really doesn’t know— can’t know— just what Keith really thinks of this whole thing. Because sure, Keith talked dirty and sweet just when Lance needed to hear it, but how much of it was  _ because  _ Lance needed to hear it? And yeah, Keith had jerked off to him too a couple times, but it’s not like that means anything. Lance has jerked off to porn without being attracted to the actors simply because it hit his kinks or because he was in the mood.

His chest feels tight.

“... Keith?”

“Yeah?” Keith sounds completely normal when he responds, if a little breathless.

“I’m sorry,” Lance blurts out. “I lied. I didn’t really want to go home with anybody else.”

“Yeah, I know.” But instead of making Lance feel relieved like it should, it only makes Lance’s heart sink.  _ You’re mine,  _ Keith had said, but after all, he was just delivering what Lance wanted to hear. Of course Keith had been playing along. That was exactly the sort of thing that Keith was good at. Lance, on the other hand, was good at deluding himself into thinking that any sort of exchange between them was genuine.

“And— and I’m sorry I came when I didn’t have permission.” He bites down on his lip to keep it from trembling, feeling like a disappointment, somehow.

“Hey,” Keith says, so soft and warm, “it’s okay. You did really well. I’m happy as long as you enjoyed yourself.” 

There’s something in Keith’s voice that makes Lance want to cry. It was like this, too, after the last time. Keith had praised him like Lance had really made him proud, took such good care of him, even over the phone, that it made his heart ache. Even though Keith himself had said it was all part of the job. It would feel better if Keith was angry, he thinks. He would rather Keith bend him over and spank him again rather than talk to him this way. Like he cares. Like this isn’t just about sex.

When had it stopped being just about sex?

“I’m sorry.” As he says it again, he becomes aware that he is apologizing for something else entirely. There’s a painful tugging in his chest that shouldn’t be there. His hands are shaking a little. He’s breathing hard now, the force of the realization almost dizzying. 

“Lance?” 

The more Keith talks, the faster his heart pounds in his chest. 

“Keith,” he tries to say, but it comes out softer than he intends, unsure. “Keith, I—”

What good would it to do say it? 

None of this was even real.

“Lance, are you okay?”

“I gotta go.” And he can’t take it anymore— he hangs up.

He slumps bonelessly against the bathroom wall and buries his face in his hands. Something else flares up in his chest, something he vaguely recognizes as anger, directed at himself. He never thought that a seedy club bathroom would be the place where he discovered his feelings for what they really were. Then again, he’s already much aware that the universe hates him. He should’ve known better. He should never have called Keith back that second time. Wrong numbers never meant anything but trouble. 

There’s a knock on the door. “Lance, are you in here?” 

“Hunk,” he says, and a surge of guilt hits him in the chest. 

“You been gone for a while, buddy. You okay?”

He gets up, rearranges his clothes to look like he hadn’t been doing what he had been doing. Great. Not only had he had secret phone sex in a public bathroom, but he had abandoned his friends to go have secret phone sex in a public bathroom. “Yeah, my stomach was killing me,” he lies with a shaky laugh. “I think I ate some expired food or something.” He washes his hands at the sink, then exits the washroom. He can’t look Hunk in the eye. 

“You wanna head back?”

“No no, you stay. Don’t let me stop you from having your fun.”

“I’m just worried about you, man. You haven’t been yourself all day.”

“I’m fine,” he says with his most convincing smile. He really is the worst. “I’ll just head on home, you stay here, ‘kay?” With a quick pat on Hunk’s shoulder, he speedwalks the hell out of there before Hunk can follow. 

He doesn’t cry. Ha, nope, definitely not. At least, not until he’s in the comfort of his room, curled up in the bed which he had felt, stupidly, was too big for one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, the guy who hit on lance is lotor (though it was kinda hard to make that clear without using the words "purple skin" or "yellow eyes"??) and no, i’m not sorry  
> ..okay, maybe a little sorry for the ending, but ch 7 will be up soon i promise. ily all <3


	7. Chapter 7

That was the last time that Lance called.

A few weeks passed and nothing changed. Clients called, some new, some regular, but none of them had cheery, animated voices that asked sweetly to be spanked. Their voices were gravelly and they told him to spread his legs and suck their toes. (Yeah. Lance had, unwittingly, hit the nail on the head. Gross.) Keith started to spend a lot of quality time with his Sudoku book again. He fell back into his old routine, but somehow it felt like a mockery. 

At first, his heart would speed up whenever his work phone rang. But every time he picked up he was let down, so he stopped looking forward to hearing Lance’s voice altogether and took to wondering what the hell happened. Which was just as fruitless of an effort, because despite how much Lance talked, in the end Keith didn’t know anything substantial about him, asides from that he was in college and had a hot voice and thoroughly enjoyed taking it up the ass. Through tidbits of conversation, he knew Lance’s favourite food, knew that Lance liked to dance and hated math, knew that he had a best friend named Hunk— but he didn’t know exactly how old Lance was, or what he was studying, or what school he went to or where he lived.

He thought maybe Lance’s coursework had gotten busier. Or maybe he realized paying for sex was pointless; now that Keith had helped him realize his kinks, he could experiment with other people in real life. (That train of thought, intruding in the middle of a call with another client, had Keith squeezing the pen in his hand so hard it nearly broke.) Or maybe— and this was the worst possibility— maybe Keith had gone too far. 

To be perfectly honest, he didn’t know what had come over him to make him so… possessive. It was just a roleplay. Lance was just riling him up to get Keith to punish him, the way he tended to do. And yet Keith had barely needed to act at all. It didn’t make any sense. It wasn’t like they were in a relationship or anything. Lance… wasn’t his. He knew that. But in the moment, driven by emotions he didn’t really understand, he had ended up saying a lot of things he really didn’t have the right to say. And maybe that had been the final factor in driving Lance away. 

“Shit,” Keith mutters under his breath, running a hand over his face. “I fucked up.”

“Sudoku getting hard?” Shiro says, peering over his shoulder. 

Keith jumps. “When did you get here?”

“I walked in three minutes ago,” Shiro replied calmly. “You didn’t hear the key in the lock?”

“I told you to knock,” Keith says. “It’s weird if my roommate’s around.” It’s just an excuse. His drug-dealing, party-goer roommate Rolo seldom hangs around their dorm, but he can’t exactly have his older brother barging in on him in the middle of phone sex. 

“Mi casa es tu casa,” Shiro says, bending down and opening the door of Keith’s mini fridge.

“That’s not how the line goes.”

“What do you want for dinner?”

_Lance’s ass,_ his mind provides helpfully. He ignores it. “Whatever you wanna make is fine,” Keith says. “Thanks for coming over.”

Shiro waves his arm— the prosthetic one— in a vague gesture of  _ don’t mention it.  _ “If I didn’t, you’d be having cereal again.”

“It’s perfectly healthy,” Keith says. “Honey Nut Cheerios. They have nut in them.”

Shiro fixes him with a deadpan stare. “Not if you pour the milk first like a heathen.”

“I am not a heathen,” Keith says indignantly. “You’re just doing it wrong! And besides, how does pouring the milk first change the nutritiousness of the meal?”

“You don’t have  _ anything  _ in here.” Shiro shuts the fridge door. “We’re getting takeout,” he declares. 

So they do. Keith doesn’t know why sitting on the bed next to Shiro, wolfing down (deliciously good) takeout from styrofoam containers, starts to make him feel better again. But it does. They talk, conversation flowing as easily as it did all those years ago before Shiro was ever gone. 

There’s a hand on his shoulder. “You doing okay?” 

Of course Shiro would notice. Keith looks up at him. His eyes are sincere, soft around the edges, and Keith’s shoulders slump a little, knowing, for more reasons than one, that he can never tell Shiro exactly what’s going on. Even so, a part of him wants to get it off his chest. Well, Shiro’s going to have to get the heavily censored version of it. 

“Hypothetically,” Keith says, feeling incredibly awkward, “what would you do if a…  _ friend _ … of yours that you used to talk to a lot suddenly stopped calling?”

Shiro beams. “You finally made a friend. I’m proud of you, Keith.”

Keith flushes. “Shut up, Shiro.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Shiro smiles, raising his arms up in surrender. “Okay. Hypothetically,” Shiro says, keeping up the ruse for his sake, “if I had a friend who stopped talking to me, I’d probably reach out to them if we were close enough. They might be going through something you don’t know about.”

Keith mulls on that, for a moment. “What if you’re not close enough to ask?”

“In that case, I suppose there’s not much you can do,” Shiro answers. “If this person really valued you and wanted to keep you in their life, they would probably keep in touch. If not, it might be time to move on.”

_ Time to move on _ . “Right,” says Keith. He shoves a mouthful of rice into his mouth and chews thoughtfully. He knew that already. Still, hearing Shiro say it was different. Thinking that he might never get to talk to Lance again hurt in ways that didn’t make sense. To miss something that had never been his in the first place was a strange feeling.

“Don’t worry too much about it, alright?” Shiro says, a comforting hand on his shoulder. “These things happen. People come and go. Just don’t forget to take care of yourself.”

“Yeah,” Keith says. He knew it more than anybody, having lived his life on the two principles that people were seldom here to stay and that wanting things led to trouble. Even now he still had trouble wrapping his head around the fact that he had Shiro. When he’d been placed in the same foster home as Shiro, it had taken months and months of slowly warming up to him, letting his guard down inch by inch, for him to think of his foster brother as a real family. But this newly learned concept of family had slipped through his fingers like quicksand when the system split them up. Years passed in which neither had any way of reaching the other. Keith had gone through another whirlwind of foster homes with a bitter taste in his mouth. Meanwhile, Shiro had come of age soon after and enlisted in the military. It was by chance that they ran into one another again on the street about half a year ago. Shiro had looked… different. Older, more worn down. But his eyes— they were still the same. Keith had thought, at first, that he was hallucinating. But he was nothing if not stubborn, and he couldn’t lose his only chance at seeing Shiro again. And he certainly didn’t regret seizing that chance.

His life might have changed, but his principles hadn’t. People were seldom here to stay, and if he was lucky enough to have just one then that was all he needed. Wanting things led to trouble, and so he’d limit himself to wanting to keep what he had, rather than to want something, or someone, entirely out of his reach.

Keith watches the way Shiro scoops up his food, still a little clumsy with the shitty plastic prosthetic arm, and reminds himself that Shiro is the whole reason he took this job in the first place. Just one more month of phone sex with a side of Sudoku, and he’d be able to save up enough to get Shiro a better, much more functional prosthetic. He feels himself smiling a little just thinking about the look on Shiro’s face when Keith would present it to him, and how much easier his brother’s life would be. All of it— even Lance— would be worth it in the end. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know it's kind of a short chapter, but i hope it answers a few questions regarding keith. there's lots more to come for keith and lance, i promise :)
> 
> (also i am sorry for the cereal discourse)
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/redbeantofu)   
>  [tumblr](http://lotorlance.tumblr.com)


	8. Chapter 8

Lance might not have been the best student in Psychology, but one thing he  _ does  _ remember is the five stages of grief. The first one, logically, is denial. That’s the one that kicks in first the morning after he gets back from the club, when he sees his credit card bill for the month and everything comes crashing down.

“Noooooooo. No no no no. This is impossible,” he mumbles to himself. “They made a mistake. Somebody stole my credit card. I’m calling them up and—”

_ Calling them up. _

Only then does he remember just who he’s been calling up this entire time, without ever having asked just how expensive he was.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck,” he says, and kicks the wall, and then swears again and falls down on the bed, because that fucking  _ hurts.  _

So yeah, that ‘anger’ stage passed real fast.

Once he’s done nursing his swollen toe, he bites his lip. Great. This is great, really, just the icing on the cake to top of a series of already terrible events in his life.

The truth of the matter is, there’s really no one to blame but himself. It’s not like he had a lot of money to begin with. It’s his own fault for being irrational and reckless and not even sparing a second to think about his situation before adding Keith to speed dial. He even went and bought sex toys, for fuck’s sake. 

He should have never dialed Keith that second time. If only he’d let the whole thing fizzle out, he could probably have forgotten about Keith’s sexy voice and moved on with his life and not, y’know, emptied his bank account for a total stranger. A total stranger who, far from ever liking him back, had probably charged him for every minute he’d spent on the phone. Every minute he had spent with Keith, just talking about conspiracy theories and Disney movies and grinning widely at Keith’s contagious laugh— he had thought they were friends, but in the end they weren’t even that.

He presses his face into the pillow, and a wave of bitterness washes over him as he remembers the last time he did just that. He was moaning Keith’s name, then, at the peak of his pleasure. And now, in the blink of an eye, he’d lost that. 

 

-

 

Chrome history

Today - November 9, 2017

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11: 34 PM    can you get a refund for feelings you don’t want - Google Search

11: 39 PM    what do you do when you paid somebody for phone sex then accidentally caught feelings and now you have no money and no boyfriend and a lot of regret please google help me my crops are dying and i have a family to feed - Google Search

 

Clear browsing data

 

-

 

“You’ve got it bad,” Hunk says.

“What?!” Lance turns accusingly on Hunk. “Were you guys even listening? I literally just said that I don’t have feelings for him!” He knew he felt something— his bathroom breakdown had established that much. Still, he wasn’t exactly ready to admit it.

“That’s exactly why,” Hunk says.

“Yeah,” Pidge explains helpfully. “You said Nyma was the one. That’s also what you said about Emily, and Jett, and Brad, and every other—”

“Would you stop pouring salt on the wound,” Lance says miserably. 

Pidge grimaces. “Sorry. My point is, if you like Keith enough to deny it, that means it’s for real this time.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Lance pouts, even as he thinks it does make a surprising amount of sense. “Okay, fine, so let’s assume that hypothetically I do like this guy. What now? How’s that gonna help with anything?” 

Hunk pipes up. “Have you thought about telling him how you feel?”

“Ha!” Lance barks out a laugh. “Funny joke, Hunk.”

“I’m serious, dude.”

“He’s a phone sex operator,” Lance says miserably. “He’ll either accept my confession so that I’ll empty my wallet for him or reject me because I’m crazy for liking a phone sex operator.”

“You never know until you try,” says Hunk. “From what you told us before it seemed like you guys were pretty good friends.”

“I agree with Lance,” says Pidge.

“What?” says Hunk.

_ “What?”  _ says Lance. 

Pidge shrugs. “I don’t think he should call him. Keith was probably just good at acting.”

Even knowing this, hearing it from someone else still hurts. “It’s not his fault,” Lance says. “Just part of the job. But you're right, I shouldn't call him.” It wouldn’t make sense to blame Keith. He was a college student too, and Lance knew how insanely expensive tuition was. Keith was just doing what he had to. It was Lance who had done what he shouldn’t have— it was Lance who called back, Lance who got attached, Lance who held the stupid hope that Keith liked him the same way. 

Whatever. No use crying over spilt milk (ha, nice one, Lance). It’s not like he’s never dealt with rejection before. He got himself into this mess and he’d get himself out of it. Maybe it was a good thing, the credit card bill— God knows he’d call Keith despite his budding feelings and dig his own grave even deeper if he could afford to. But for now, at least, he’ll focus on getting his savings back. His mama didn’t work her butt off to raise some ungrateful sex addict. Lance is going to stay in school even if it means living off of cup noodles and working every shift he can get his grubby hands on.

 

-

 

So. Back to the five stages of grief. It’s probably about time that Lance reached the ‘acceptance and renewal’ stage. It has been several weeks, after all. But that’s not what happens.

“You look like a zombie,” Shiro says when Lance clocks in to his shift at the Starbucks on campus. He’d gotten off at midnight last night, gone home, gotten five hours of sleep and was now here, at seven o’clock in the morning. That was the only good thing about suffering from Keith withdrawal— he was too tired to even think about the sex he missed.

“Gee, I wonder where I can get myself a cup of coffee,” Lance quips back, gesturing to the abundance of coffee machines surrounding them. Shiro smiles and lets out a warm laugh, and Lance can’t help but smile in return. Hey, he may be dead tired, but you’d have to literally be dead inside not to be at least a little cheered up by looking at Shiro. The only beacon of hope in these dark times, Shiro had the physique of a Greek god and the demeanor of a Golden retriever. To say he was Lance’s favourite coworker was an understatement. Every day, Lance thanked every deity up there for blessing him with Shiro’s presence. And also blessing him with the fact that Shiro apparently needed money as much as he did, because who knew how else Lance was going to survive all these consecutive eight-hour shifts if Shiro wasn’t his coworker for practically all of them?

It turns out Lance doesn’t even have time to make himself a cup of coffee. University students need coffee as much as Lance needs money, and so the line of people ordering coffees almost never ceases. By noon, he feels like a robot programmed to make limited edition holiday drinks. His stamina isn’t actually that bad, but his arms are sore as hell. He hasn’t exactly gotten an abundance of sleep lately. 

“I’m getting off early today,” Shiro says, clapping him on the shoulder. “Good luck, buddy. Hang in there.”

Lance has to stop himself from groaning, because  _ great,  _ how is he supposed to survive another hellish five hours without Shiro? “Yeah, see you soon,” he says as cheerily as he can, watching Shiro’s retreating backside.  _ I hate to see you leave, but I love watching you go…  _

He shakes his head and turns back to making his millionth cup of coffee. Yeah, Shiro’s attractive, he’ll admit that much, and the Lance from a month ago would be falling all over himself trying to get some of that. Except the majority of the time he’s around Shiro, he finds his thoughts drifting back to Keith. He never did find out what Keith looked like. Which is probably a good thing, because if Keith looked anything like Shiro then Lance would be fucked.

Another coworker, one he doesn’t know that well, takes Shiro’s place next to him at the counter. Normally, he’d probably try to make small talk, but today his thoughts are elsewhere. So elsewhere, in fact, that Lance hardly even looks at the next guy who walks up to the counter.

It’s when the guy opens his mouth and speaks that the floor drops out from under him. Lance thinks he’s hallucinating at first, because there’s no fucking way. He knows that voice, knows it all too well— has heard it whisper obscene things in his ear all too many times— has heard it laugh, soft and warm, late at night.  

But to hear it in person— to hear the words fall out from pink lips attached to an  _ insanely  _ attractive face— changes everything.

“One grande caramel brulee latte.”

In that instant, Lance learns two things.

One. That Keith looks nothing like Shiro.

Two. That Lance is totally, completely fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's called hot singles /in your area/ for a reason :^)
> 
> come find me on my [twitter](http://twitter.com/redbeantofu) or my [tumblr](http://redbeantofu.tumblr.com)!!
> 
> EDIT: i've deleted the april fools' chapter from ao3 to avoid confusion, but you can find it on my tumblr [here](http://redbeantofu.tumblr.com/post/159098916536/hot-singles-in-your-area-april-fools-chapter)!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for waiting!! yes, this is the real chapter;; i've deleted the april fools chapter to avoid confusion for future readers, but i've kept it up [here](http://redbeantofu.tumblr.com/post/159098916536/hot-singles-in-your-area-april-fools-chapter) on my tumblr.

Lance doesn’t know he’s been standing there gaping until Keith raises an eyebrow. “Something wrong with my drink choice?”

Lance’s heart is rattling in his ribcage. All the blood in his body has rushed right to his face. He’s pretty sure that his coworker behind him is staring, utterly confused. And only for that reason does he force himself to speak. “Sorry. One grande caramel brulee latte. Right.”

Keith’s eyes go wide like saucers. His eyes drift toward the name tag on Lance’s chest. And then— and then he blushes, hard, an adorable splotch of red painting his cheeks.

“Oh my God,” Keith says.

“I know,” says Lance. His face is overheating dangerously. “Trust me, I know.”

The person behind Keith clears their throat. Lance’s eyes follow the increasingly long lineup trailing behind Keith. “Right,” says Lance. “That’ll be four forty-five.”

Keith fumbles through his wallet and drops the money into Lance’s open palm. He’s wearing fingerless leather gloves. The tips of his fingers brush against Lance’s skin, and Lance feels a spark of static electricity that he’s probably imagining.

The last time fate played a trick on him, it drained his bank account. By all reasonable logic, he should walk away. But by all reasonable logic, of all the campuses in the world and all the coffee shops on this campus, there’s no way Keith would show up here unless maybe, just maybe, he was meant to.

“Can we,” Lance says, and then swallows. “Can we talk? I— my shift ends in twenty minutes.”

“Yeah,” Keith says immediately, blushing harder, and a starburst of feeling blooms in Lance’s chest. “Yeah. I’ll wait.”

“Okay,” he says, and scribbles Keith’s name onto the cup, ducking his head to avoid having to look at Keith because _what the hell, Keith didn’t tell him he was this fucking hot._ “Next please,” he says, his voice only wavering a little. And for the rest of the shift, he waits for his heart to calm down and sneaks little glances at the head of black hair sitting alone by the window.

He starts to notice things. Things like his body. Not exactly muscular— slender, but toned, defined, in the square of his shoulders, even under the red jacket. Leather, like his fingerless gloves. (Why didn’t Keith tell Lance about those gloves earlier so that Lance could get off with that knowledge? Pff. Wasted opportunities.) Keith’s sipping thoughtfully on his coffee, with this sort of brooding aura. (Lance wishes he was that coffee.) His eyebrows, a little thick, frame his face perfectly, and his eyelashes are pretty long, and that shouldn’t be cute but it is. And also— Lance squints at the tufts of hair at the nape of his neck, poking out in every direction— is that a _mullet?_

Twenty minutes later, Lance is on break, and Keith is still sitting there. It hits Lance that he actually waited for him, and his heart does a weird little jump. Lance changes out of his apron and slides into the seat across from Keith much more suavely than he feels, and crosses his arms. “You didn’t tell me you had a mullet.”

Keith raises an eyebrow. “I don’t have a mullet.”

Lance uncrosses his arms and props an elbow on the table. “Yes you do. You ever looked in a mirror? You need a haircut.”

“Why, you want your money back because you don’t like my hair?”

Lance flushes. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

Keith flushes, too. The two of them pointedly stare at each other, then pointedly stare away from each other, only to find that an invisible gravity has pulled their gazes inevitably back to one another.

“So,” says Lance.

“So,” says Keith.

“It’s nice to meet you,” says Lance, and it’s genuine, until he adds, “Akira,” just to see the look on Keith’s face.

Keith recoils for a second, face plastered in a sort of  _ you-did-not-just-say-that  _ shock. He recovers pretty fast, though, quirking an eyebrow up. His eyebrows are cute. “It’s nice to meet you too, Lance Charles McClain.”

_ “How did you—” _

"You gave me your credit card info, remember?”

At the words  _ credit card,  _ Lance’s mind short-circuits. He’s been traumatized, okay. You can’t blame him. He probably makes some kind of weird face, because Keith stops grinning.

“So, Lance. You been,” Keith pauses, his voice dry. “You been… busy working lately?” _You haven’t called lately._ Unsaid, the words hang in the air.

“Yeah,” says Lance, looking down. “I, uh. I probably owe you an explanation.”

“No,” says Keith hurriedly. “It’s fine. I don’t mean to pry. I was just wondering, because you were one of my most frequent customers.”

Lance’s heart sinks like a stone. A frequent customer. Another reminder that whatever camaraderie they had, acquaintances toeing the line of friends, was founded on the basis that Lance was a paying client and Keith was just doing his job. He looks back up at Keith. “No, you’re right,” he says, as casual as he can sound. “I was a pretty frequent customer, like you said. Just…”

And then they both speak at the same time. “I’m sorry.”

They blink at one another in confusion.

“Oh,” Keith says, blushing, “you go ahead.”

“Oh… yeah,” says Lance. “Just— I’m sorry I stopped calling. I just, uh, I can’t really afford you anymore. But I mean, with your voice, you probably get a ton of clients even without me.” He chuckles. Keith doesn’t. There’s a weird sort of subdued look on his face that Lance can’t put his finger on.

“You stopped calling because of that?” Keith says, like he’s trying to make sense of it. “That’s the only reason?”

Suddenly embarrassed, Lance scratches the back of his head absentmindedly. “Well— yeah, y’know, the college life. I’m kinda just winging it on my own here, my parents don’t really make all that much and it’s not like I’d ask them to pay for… _this_. It was my own fault, I should’ve like, kept a budget or something—”

Keith breathes what sounds like a sigh of relief _(relief?)_ and smiles. “You could’ve just told me,” he says. “It’s not like I ever needed to be paid to talk to you. You got a pen?”

“Yeah—” Lance starts to dig in his apron pocket, then stops. “Wait, _what?”_

“Do you have a pen,” Keith repeats.

“No, the other thing you said.” Lance is absolutely certain that his face is the precise shade of a tomato. Had he heard wrong? Was he actually dreaming? Did whichever God that made Shiro his coworker suddenly decide to be a thousand times more generous?

Keith catches on, too, and blushes. He coughs into his hand. Lance turns his attention back to his pocket, his heart beating at a mile a minute.

“I do. Um. I have a pen,” says Lance, sounding much like a boy on the cusp of puberty. He clears his throat and shoves the pen at Keith aggressively. Keith takes it, also aggressively, not meeting his eye. He grabs the napkin on the table and starts to write. With every digit he scrawls, Lance’s eyes bulge further out of their sockets.

“Take it,” says Keith, pushing the napkin at Lance. “And call me. Toll free.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D :D :D :D :D!!!!
> 
> thank you guys so much for all the kudos, bookmarks, and comments! i wish i had time to reply to them all, so here is a [tiny coffee shop lance](https://twitter.com/redbeantofu/status/844752146780241920) as thanks.
> 
> *edited 6/1/2017* yes, i'm still continuing the fic! i'm very busy lately as i recently acquired a full-time job and lost the majority of my energy and creative juices. but i'm working on it, i swear on lance mcclain's beautiful face. slow and steady wins the race... 
> 
> though i'm honestly happy to see comments prompting me to update, sadly i can't write as fast as you guys can read. ;__; thanks for being patient!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE IT IS!! thank you guys for being so patient!!! hope y'all enjoy the chapter!

“This Keith guy,” says Hunk, awed, “is really, really smooth.”

“And you,” says Pidge, “are really, really far gone.”

“What?” says Lance, barely looking up from the piece of paper in his hand. His face hurts from smiling so hard. “Did you say something?”

Pidge sighs. “You’re hopeless,” she concludes. “Just tell us already. What did you guys talk about on the phone?”

“Oh.” Lance blushes. “I haven’t called him yet.”

“You _what?”_ Pidge and Hunk shout in unison.

“Well,” says Lance, “you know how people say you shouldn’t call someone within twenty-four hours of getting their number, and it’s only been three hours? I don’t want to, like, seem clingy or anything—”

“Lance, buddy.” Hunk places a hand on his shoulder. “You’re telling me you just got the number of the guy of your dreams and you called _us_ to meet up so you could tell us in person before you even called _him?”_

“Well you guys are my best friends.”

“Dude,” Pidge cries out, holding a fistful of hair in her small hands. “Just _call him_ before I rip my hair out.”

 

-

 

That’s how he ends up back in the comfort of his room, perched on the edge of the very bed where he had numerous imaginary sexcapades with the person who he’s about to call, for _free_ , for the very first time. Despite running on six hours of sleep across the past forty-eight hours and having worked what was possibly the longest shift of his life, Lance feels like he’s chugged five cans of Red Bull in quick succession. He can’t stop shaking his leg as he stares down at the piece of paper that is both his greatest friend and mortal enemy.

“Just call him!” shouts Pidge from outside his door.

“Why are you still here!” Lance calls back.

“We aren’t leaving until you call him,” says Hunk. “We just wanna make sure you don’t blow your chances.”

“Fine. Fine! I’ll do it.” Lance presses the dials on his phone aggressively, then calms down a bit to double-check that he has the right number. When he’s certain that he does, he presses the green button. And waits.

Three rings go by before Keith finally picks up. “Hello?”

“Hi,” says Lance, lifting his arm in a wave, then dropping it as he remembers he’s not visible to Keith. He fidgets on the bed. Why is he so nervous? It’s not like he’s never called Keith before. “It’s me. Lance.”

“Couldn’t have guessed it,” Keith jokes with a short laugh. “Sorry I had to go so quickly earlier. I had class.”

“Wait, wait, hold up.” Lance swallows. “You go to U of A?”

“Yeah. Why, do you?”

“Holy shit, dude,” Lance laughs. “We were at the same university this whole time, and we didn’t even— jeez, what are the odds. What year you in?”

“Second. You?”

“Same. Man, this is crazy. What’s your major?”

“Astrophysics.”

Lance can’t help it. He bursts out laughing.

“What?” says Keith, confused.

“Nothing,” Lance says, a giant smile plastered across his face. “I’m transferring into Astrophysics next semester. If I can keep my grades up.”

Keith laughs in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Not at all.” Lance sighs. “I can’t believe I had to drain my entire bank account to talk to you when I could probably have just, I don’t know, run into you in the hallway. The universe hates me.”

“After today, I’d say it likes you plenty,” Keith replies. Lance can hear the smile in his face.

“Yeah, I’d say it likes me too.” Lance is smiling, too. So much it almost hurts. He settles onto his stomach, kicking his feet back and forth in the air. He feels like he’s thirteen and scored a date with the most popular girl in school. Except he hasn’t actually scored a date yet. He’s gotta do that now, he supposes. “So— I, uh.” _Come on, Lance. How many people’ve you asked out up till now?_ Well, barring the fact that most of them never gave him a second date, but that’s something to worry about later. “I was wondering if—”

“Hold on a sec,” Keith cuts in, then turns away from the phone. Distantly, Lance hears— “Shut up, Shiro. I’m busy.” He brings the phone up to his ear again, but by then Lance’s brain has shortcircuited.

“Shiro?” he blurts out into the phone. “Like, Takashi Shirogane?”

“Uh, yeah,” says Keith. “How do you know my brother?”

“He’s my coworker.” Lance nearly chokes on his own spit. “Wait, seriously? You guys are _brothers?_ ”

“Yeah?” says Keith, a little thrown off.

“Huh. Who was adopted, you or him?” he jokes. “‘Cause you guys do not look alike.”

“Both of us,” says Keith, which _really_ throws Lance off, holy shit. “We met in foster care. Also, I don’t know if I should take that as an insult, given that he’s kinda known for his good looks.”

There’s just too much for Lance to process at once. There’s _Keith and Shiro are brothers,_ and then there’s _foster care,_ which— man, he really had no idea, and probably shouldn’t ask. Just goes to show how little he knows about Keith. Keith really doesn’t talk about himself much, and he wouldn’t have told if Lance hadn’t asked. He focuses instead on the _good looks._

“It’s just an observation,” Lance says. “I mean he _is_ good looking, but you’re more my type.” His face heats up immediately. “I mean, uh—” He laughs nervously. _God, Lance, get it together._

“Um, thanks.” Keith pauses. “Anyway, what were you saying before?”

“Before! Right,” says Lance, voice suddenly an octave higher. He rolls onto his back, then rolls back onto his stomach. He’s got this. Deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. “I was wondering if you’re free any time this weekend.”

“Yeah, I’m free on Sunday. Why?”

“Great,” says Lance, a little too enthusiastically, and then pinches himself as a reminder to tone it down. “How would you like to, um, go out together?”

The silence stretches out on the other end. With every second that ticks by, Lance laments his decision more and more. He can’t believe he jumped the gun like that. _Jeez, Lance, what are you doing? You have phone sex with a guy a few times and have the gall to ask him out on a date?_ Lance spends the next few moments plotting to change his name and number and move to Mexico to start a new life. But then Keith finally replies. “Oh,” says Keith. He sounds surprised, to say the least. “Um. Yeah, sure. I’d uh— I’d like that.”

Plan: success. Plane ticket to Mexico: cancelled. “Cool,” says Lance, and reminds himself to breathe. “How’s Sunday at two? We can meet in front of the Starbucks on campus?”

“I’d rather not let Shiro see me,” Keith replies. “He’d never let me live it down. How about in front of the bookstore?”

“Yeah, yeah, that works,” Lance says with a chuckle. “I know how siblings get with these kinds of things. My sisters tried to stalk me on my last—” He coughs into his hand. Shit, he’d almost said _date._ Was this a date? Would Keith be okay with it being a date? “Well, I’ll see you then?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Keith sniffs the air. “Hey, I gotta go. I think I smell smoke in the air.”

_“Smoke?”_

“Yeah, Shiro’s trying to cook. Key word: trying. I gotta make sure he doesn’t burn down our building. I’ll talk to you later.”

Lance laughs into the back of his hand. “How? He’s a barista.”

“Beats me. Guess he can’t make anything other than a cup of coffee.”

“Alright, go save the day,” says Lance. “See you Sunday.”

For a good minute after Keith hangs up, Lance sits there and basks in the silence. And then, in true preteen girl fashion, he presses his face into the pillow and screams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> U of A = university of altea LOL it was a mouthful for lance to say and i was gonna clarify it in upcoming chapters but there u go for those who are wondering!
> 
> edit: i’m working full time and have hit a bit of a writer's block so i can't promise regular updates, but i'm doing my best and i am definitely continuing this fic! so please don't worry :) comments, twitter mentions, and tumblr asks regarding when i will update won't receive a response. thanks for understanding!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR!! wishing you all a wonderful 2018. 2017 has been insanely busy for me, so thank you guys for waiting so patiently. a lot happens in this chapter, so i hope it's worth the wait :)
> 
> also heres a little [doodle](https://twitter.com/redbeantofu/status/949863086399238145) i did of my boys

“Shiro,” says Lance. “I need to ask you something important.”

“Sure thing,” says Shiro, pausing to slide a fresh hot cup of coffee across the counter and call out the name of somebody’s order. He waits until the guy has picked up his coffee and left before turning back to Lance. “What’s up?”

Lance sighs, wiping drops of spilled coffee off the counter with a cloth. “I didn’t really wanna have to come to you with this,” he admits honestly. “But I asked Pidge and Hunk and they didn’t really help. Hunk just told me to bake cookies for them but I’m not good at that. Pidge just said to invite them over to play video games, but I don’t have a TV or any computer games, and two people crowded around a 3DS doesn’t really sound like anyone’s idea of a good time.” There’s the added fact that it’s just straight-up weird to ask your date’s older brother for date advice, but, well, Shiro doesn’t have to know that. And Lance is desperate, okay.

“Okay, Lance,” says Shiro calmly, but with a knowing look. “First of all, who is this mysterious entity known as ‘they’?”

“Well, I’m taking this person out on a date,” Lance says, wringing the cloth in his hands. “And I really want it to go well. I mean I— I really like them. But I don’t know what to do.”

“A date,” says Shiro, a teasing look in his eye. “So what do they like? Let’s start with that.”

“Um,” says Lance, and then stills. _Sex, maybe?_ Even that was a maybe. He got paid to do it after all. Math? Keith had mentioned something about doing Sudoku, once. ‘Conspiracy theory films’ sounded like a weird thing to say. “I don’t know. Movies?” Hey, that’s actually a pretty good idea. Why didn’t he think of that before?

“That sounds like a pretty risk-free first date,” Shiro muses, looking ahead with a straight face. “Keith likes anything involving action and space, but he’s also got a soft spot for romance movies, though he’d never tell you that. If you plan on take him out to dinner after, he really likes pineapple pizza.”

“Oh, thanks— wait, wait, _what? Keith?_ ” Lance laughs nervously. “Who said anything about _Keith?_ Where’d you even get that name? I have never met a single Keith in my life.”

Shiro covers his heart with his prosthetic hand in an exaggerated display of woundedness. “He came over to my place and told me he was too busy for me. Of course I had to ask him what he was busy with.”

“Oh, God.” Lance buries his face in his hands. “This is great. Just great.”

Shiro places a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I won’t tell him you asked me for date ideas. Given that the date goes well. If you screw him over, I won’t hold back.”

“Jeez, no pressure,” Lance says incredulously. “Also, Keith likes pineapple pizza?”

“He pours his milk before his cereal, too.” Shiro shakes his head. “I’ve tried my best. He just won’t listen.”

Lance pats Shiro on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, man. But at least he can cook.” And then he laughs as Shiro’s entire face goes red.

 

-

 

“I can’t do this,” Keith says, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Do what?” says Shiro innocently, peering over his shoulder at the utter mess on the bed.

“I don’t have anything to wear.” Keith picks up a shirt off the bed, then throws it back down.

“That shirt was just fine. ‘Aliens believe in us,’” Shiro reads off of the shirt. “Very inspirational.”

“Why are you even here,” says Keith in response, flopping down onto the bed and crushing his pile of unsatisfactory shirts beneath him.

Shiro ignores him, because it’s not really a question. Both of them had already been living alone for a while before reuniting with each other, and neither Shiro’s place nor Keith’s dorm had an extra bed, so their only solution was to share house keys and bother each other at least three times a week. Living together would be nice, if not for the fact that they were both dirt poor. And also Keith couldn’t let Shiro know about his secret life as a phone sex operator.

“I thought you said it wasn’t a date,” Shiro says. “Since it’s not a date, why would you need to worry about what to wear?”

“Right,” Keith replies, rolling over onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. He knows he’s overreacting, since it’s obviously not a date. There’s no reason why Lance would ask somebody he paid for phone sex out on a date. He’s probably just the friendly type of guy who books a friendly coffee chat with everyone he meets.

It’s just. This is probably the first social outing Keith has been invited to in months? The only person he hangs out with is Shiro. And just by virtue of hanging around Shiro, he also hung around with Shiro’s best friend and his little sister. He'd lost contact after he moved, but he’d recently found out that she also went to this university. Upon discovering she owned a Nintendo Switch _and_ Breath of the Wild he went over to her dorm to play occasionally, but when she offered to invite her other friends over he panicked and left. Point is, he’s not a very social person. Whether or not it’s a date doesn’t matter— he’d be anxious either way.

“Okay, whatever,” he says finally, changing into the alien shirt. “I’ll head out now. Don’t burn down the building while I’m gone.” He shoves his keys, some cash, and both his phones, his business and personal ones, into his pants pockets, then rolls off the bed and heads out the door. He tells himself the sweat on his palms and the racing of his heartbeat is from excessive worry of Shiro starting a fire, and absolutely nothing else.

 

-

 

There’s barely a cloud in the sky, and the sun is shining, which is rare for the usually rainy winter season. On the walk to the bookstore, Lance sees an adorable puppy, a fluffy little thing whose owner gladly let him pet it. Lance takes it all as a good omen. Like God Himself is watching over, giving Lance his blessing. _My sweet child— even though you’re going to hell for having premarital phone sex, I will at least make sure you enjoy the ride, since you went to church every Sunday for the first seventeen years of your life._

So he’s feeling pretty good about himself. He arrives twenty minutes early and figures he’ll read for a bit before Keith arrives, so he heads on in and sees Keith sitting on the beanbag chair in the back corner reading _Batman._

“Hey,” he says with a wave, and Keith jumps.

“Hey,” Keith replies, getting up and putting the comic back on the shelf. “Sorry if you were waiting outside. I was early and figured you wouldn’t be here yet, so I just hung out here.”

“That’s okay,” Lance says, trying not to sound giddy at the fact that Keith cared enough to arrive early. He nods at the comic Keith has just put away. “You a DC fan?”

“Yeah,” says Keith, as they start to walk through the aisles of books. “You?”

“More of a Marvel guy myself. Who’s your favourite?”

“Batman,” says Keith.

“Good choice,” says Lance. “But also, Wonder Woman is like ninety percent of the reason I’m bisexual instead of just gay.”

“I get it,” Keith chuckles. Lance is reminded, again, of how much nicer it sounds in person rather than over the phone. He still can’t quite believe that Keith is here with him. “I watched the movie around the time I started doing the phone sex thing, and for a good whole week I really considered turning straight.”

Lance laughs and sort of winces simultaneously. “It’s that bad?”

Keith shrugs. “Not the highlight of my day, getting people to orgasm and then having them hang up on you. Most of them have ugly voices and are way too old for me.”

“Well duh,” Lance says dramatically. “Not everyone is blessed with a sexy voice _and_ body like this guy.” He gestures to himself with two thumbs.

“True,” says Keith.

All the blood rushes to Lance’s face at once. “What?” he squeaks.

“What?” says Keith with a straight face. “You’re the one who said it.”

“You’re not supposed to _agree_ with me!”

“For a guy who talks big about himself, you’re pretty bad at taking compliments,” says Keith, a teasing glint in his eye. Lance just scowls in response. Luckily as they head out, the chilly air soothes his heated cheeks.

"So, where are we going?" asks Keith.

"The movies,” says Lance. “If you’re okay with that.”

“Yeah,” says Keith with a small smile. “That’d be nice.”

‘Action and space,’ Shiro had said. So naturally, there was only one choice. They grab two tickets for _The Last Jedi_ and some popcorn and drinks, then proceed to the theatre and seat themselves comfortably in the nice reclining seats.

He’s immersed enough in the movie that he forgets his nerves. Until around the time when Rose first shows up, and Lance reaches over to the edge of the armrest to grab his drink. But his hand doesn’t come into contact with a cup. Instead, it lands on something soft and gloved.

 _Holyshitholyshitholyshit._ Lance jumps and looks over to see that Keith is watching him, eyes wide as saucers.

“Sorry,” Lance says, jerking away from Keith’s hand as if burned. “Wrong side. I was aiming for this.” With his left hand, he grabs his drink and sips aggressively on the straw.

“It’s fine,” says Keith. He looks down at his hand for a long time, and then crosses his arms for the rest of the movie.

For the most part, Lance watches the movie and tries to forget about whatever the hell just happened. Keith seems to have no problem doing just that. Each time Lance sneaks a glance at Keith, he’s watching intently with his eyes trained on the screen. To be fair, it _is_ a good movie, and when he walks out of the theatre it’s with a feeling of satisfaction.

“That was a really good movie,” says Lance. “When she was flying the thing and the theatre went dead silent I was like, _whoa._ And also the whole Kylo thing explains a lot, actually. Like I kind of thought he was a loser but I also feel bad for him? He's like, a sympathetic loser. You know who I like though? Rose. Rose is cool.”

He stops rambling, realizing that Keith is just watching him talk, wearing a small smile. “What about you? Did you like it?”

“Yeah. It was good,” says Keith, the corner of his lip quirked up ever so slightly. His gaze briefly lands on Lance’s hands, and then he looks idly away.

It’s awkward for a moment, in which Lance contemplates what to say. Apologize, maybe? But that would imply that he didn’t actually want to hold Keith’s hand, which was the complete opposite of the truth. Suddenly, he feels rather stupid. He’s imagined this hand up his ass countless times, and still he can’t bring himself to bridge the three inches between his pinky finger and Keith’s.

 _It’s not that hard,_ he tells himself. He moves his pinky finger an inch. Getting there. Just one more step—

And then the moment is broken when Keith’s stomach growls.

His face turns the same shade of red as his jacket immediately as he scowls, crosses his arms and hunches in on himself. It’s the cutest thing Lance has ever witnessed in his life.

“Popcorn wasn’t enough?” Lance says with a grin, shoving his hands back into his pockets. “How about I buy you dinner?”

“I’m not hungry,” Keith grumbles.

Lance rolls his eyes. “Sure Jan.”

“Jan?” Keith bristles. “Did you just… call me the wrong name?”

“Oh my God, Keith, _no_ ,” says Lance. “It’s a meme.”

“What’s a meme?”

“Why am I attracted to you? Oh, forget it,” says Lance. “Let’s just get some food.”

They arrive at one of Lance’s favourite diners. The place is decorated with dim lighting, red cushiony chairs in booths with plastic tables. On the surface, there’s nothing to boast about, but there are two reasons he picked this place. Reason number one:

“This place has _twelve_ different kinds of pineapple pizza,” says Keith in shock, flipping through the menu. “Seriously?”

“Uh-huh,” Lance replies, resting his chin on his hands proudly.

Keith just stares at him. “How’d you know I like pineapple pizza?”

“Uhhhhhh,” says Lance very intelligently, looking down at the menu. “Oh, would you look at that _._ They also have ten different kinds of mac and cheese.”

Question diverted. They move on to ordering food, eating their food, and making more small talk. Given the nature of their previous relationship, he half expects to be turned on by Keith drinking his soda from the bottle. Okay, so maybe he is a little— God, those lips. But mostly he’s content with just watching Keith talk and eat and roll his eyes at Lance’s jokes, and savouring Keith’s rare little smiles on occasions when Lance isn’t even trying to be funny.

“I’ll get the bill,” Lance offers when they finish their food.

Keith shakes his head vehemently. “I’ll get it. I’m the reason you’re broke in the first place. Actually… I wanted to talk to you about that.”

It’s the first time they’ve brought it up. Lance’s heart starts to race. Is Keith going to suggest they have actual, real-life sex? His palms are sweaty. His knees are weak.

“You can have your money back,” says Keith. “I kind of feel bad about taking your money. I mean, I enjoyed it too.”

Oh. Not what he’d expected. “No, no,” says Lance, waving his hands frantically. “You don’t have to feel bad! There’s no rule that says you can’t be paid to do something you enjoy. I’m pretty sure that’s what most people look for in a job. So just keep it. I know paying for college sucks, and I don’t want to deprive you of your education.”

Keith thinks about it for a bit, and then cracks a small, soft smile that has Lance’s stomach fluttering. “Thanks,” he says. And then fidgets. “It’s not for my tuition, though.”

“Then what is it?”

Keith shrugs. “Just… stuff.”

“Stuff,” Lance echoes. “So am I like, your sugar daddy?”

Keith spits his drink. “What?”

“Well, it kind of meets the criteria. I paid you, and now we’re on a date.”

Keith flushes a bright red. “We’re— this is a date?”

It’s Lance’s turn to blush. “If you want it to be,” he says quietly.

“I don’t know,” says Keith, and then looks down, as if he hadn’t meant to admit it. “I don’t exactly know what counts as a date. I’ve never been on one before.”

Lance’s eyes nearly fall out of their sockets. “You _what?”_

“Shut up,” Keith mutters gruffly. “It’s not that weird.”

“But it _is,_ ” Lance insists, and starts ticking points off on his fingers. “You’re attractive. You’re nice. You have a hot voice. So why? Do you have some kind of weird thing? Like, I don’t know, bad hygiene. Or like, you’re really obsessed with collecting puppets and hiding them in your closet?” Lance shudders.

“No!” Keith scowls. “Why would I do that? Why would _anybody do that?_ ” He sighs. “I just… don’t do dates. That’s it.”

“Huh,” says Lance. “Okay. Well, you’re lucky I’m your first. Because I, the master of arcade games, am about to blow your freaking mind.” He gives a cursory nod to the arcade side of the room, and finger guns at Keith with a wink.

“Oh, are you?” Keith’s lips curl up into a smile. “We’ll see about that.”

That’s the second reason he picked this place. The arcade, which he frequents with Pidge and Hunk, has a pretty big array of classic video games. He usually loses to Pidge at them— but hey, it says more about her insane abilities than Lance’s. He could kick anyone else’s ass. And there are shooting games, the only ones Lance dominates without fail. So yeah, he’s fairly confident he can wow Keith.

Until Keith beats his score in Pac-Man. And then decimates the arcade high score in Fruit Ninja. Keith plays arcade games with his feet spread in a fighting stance, a single-minded determination and a small sideways grin that he’s probably not even aware of. Lance’s competitive pride sinks like a stone in his stomach. But the part of him that’s just a boy with a crush watches, mesmerized.

Keith finishes slicing up fruit with insane speed and accuracy, and turns to Lance. “So? Are you all talk and no action?”

“Oh, _hell_ no. I’m barely getting started.”

He grabs Keith by the wrist and drags him over to table hockey. Last time he beat both Hunk and Pidge, so this’ll definitely show him. He rolls up his sleeves. Keith does the same, a challenge in his eyes.

“You might want to take off your gloves for this,” says Lance. “They might get in the way. You’re gonna need to go all out if you want to beat _me.”_

“Nah,” says Keith, with deliberate nonchalance that sets Lance even more on edge. “I’m good.”

“All right then,” says Lance, cracking his knuckles and gripping onto the plastic striker. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

As expected, it turns out to be more intense than table hockey has a right to be. Keith has extremely fast reflexes, and Lance is busy enough as it is focusing on defense that he barely has time to think of an attack plan. Each time the puck slips by and makes a _clack_ as it slips through the goal, Lance’s heart sinks more and more. Since he doesn’t have much left to lose, he serves the puck with a wild zigzag, and with luck it bounces off the walls and slides right into the goal. Hell yeah. Hope restored.

The match continues in Keith’s favour, but Lance holds his own as a worthy opponent. Keith begins regarding him with respect and caution. When it’s finally over, they’re both out of breath, and Keith has won by a narrow margin.

“You know,” says Keith, leaning back on the edge of the table. “Someone said he was the master of arcade games, but I think that someone was wrong.”

“Shut up,” Lance tosses back. “You just haven’t seen me in my natural habitat.”

“Uh huh,” says Keith. “I’ll give you one last chance to prove you’re not all talk.”

“I will,” says Lance. “I guarantee it.”

The last stop— the shooting game. Rather than one of those survival games where you shoot until you die, it’s a time-limit game where you score as many points as you can and win tickets. He figures Keith would be bored watching him for a long time, anyway.

He lets Keith go first, and is mildly impressed. Keith doesn’t have as much skill compared to how good he is at everything else, but he’s not bad either.

When it’s his turn, Lance steps up and cocks his chin proudly. “Just watch,” he says, tossing his tokens into the machine and getting into position with the gun. He breathes in, breathes out. Every single target that shows up on screen, he hits in quick succession. Keith’s eyes are as wide as saucers, and Lance feels the adrenaline rush of pride as he listens to the pleasant sound of the ticket machine spitting out his tickets.

“That’s why they call me the sharpshooter,” Lance says, with finger guns for effect.

They make their way to the prize booth, and Lance puts the roll of tickets in Keith’s palm.

“Take your pick,” he says with a grin.

“I don’t really want anything,” says Keith. But his eyes suddenly land on a hippo plushie on the top shelf, and his whole face lights up.

Lance nudges Keith’s side with his elbow. “You sure?”

“Okay,” says Keith slowly. “Maybe I do want something.”

The guy at the booth hands him the hippo, and he hands it over to Keith, regarding Keith’s face with amusement. He looks like a little kid opening presents on Christmas Day. Lance is learning more about Keith in a day than he has for the past couple months.

“Thanks, Lance,” says Keith, and his smile is the killing shot at Lance’s already fragile heart. “It’s beautiful.”

“It was nothing!” Lance scratches the back of his head. “Uhm, it’s getting kind of late, so… do you have a curfew or anything? Does Shiro give you curfews? He seems like a chill guy, but I don’t know.”

“He’s not my dad,” says Keith, rolling his eyes. “And we don’t live together. I live in the dorms. So, no.” He looks around. “But you’re right. Everyone’s leaving, so I think this place closes soon.”

“Let me walk you back?”

“We live on the same campus,” says Keith.

“Right. Yeah.”

The stars are out by the time they get outside. Pollution’s usually pretty bad, but tonight the sky offers a pretty good, twinkling view. As they walk, Keith looks up at the stars, and Lance looks at Keith.

“You’re in Astrophysics, right? What makes you like space?”

Keith looks back at Lance thoughtfully. “I guess I like that the stars are the same no matter where you go.”

“Not really,” Lance replies. “The amount of universe you can see is different depending on where you’re looking at it from. Like on another galaxy, you’d see a whole different chunk of universe than we do.”

Keith chuckles. “I don’t mean across galaxies. Just… different places on earth.”

“I know what you mean.” Lance sighs. “Sometimes I look up and think about my family back in Cuba. I came here with my parents and siblings, but everyone else is back there— my cousins, my grandparents. When you grow up in a really big household, it’s like background noise. But when you’re away, you really miss the good company.” He looks over at Keith again. “What about you? You sound like you’ve been to a lot of places.”

“I guess,” says Keith. “I moved around a lot. Just went wherever the system put me. But not between countries like you.”

Right. Foster parents. “Did you ever know your real parents?”

Keith pauses for a while. “Yeah,” he says, looking straight ahead. “My mom left, and my dad died when I was a kid.”

Lance wonders which is worse, but he thinks he can guess. Instinct takes over, and before he knows it, he’s holding Keith’s hand in his. In the dark, it’s hard to see for sure, but he thinks Keith might be blushing.

“Is this okay?” he asks, just to be sure.

“Yeah,” says Keith, soft. A tiny cloud of air emerges from his lips and vanishes into the cold air. Lance wants to talk. To hear what Keith has to say about his past that he’s not ready to say quite yet. To kiss him or even just hold him. He wants a thousand things, and he’s only barely worked up the courage to do the first. He’s liked a lot people before. Pidge used to make fun of him for flirting with everything that walked on two legs. But this isn’t just some ordinary crush, or some way for him to get laid. This is something more. The realization nearly makes his throat close up.

Their footsteps come to a stop.

“This is my building,” says Keith. It’s two buildings away from Lance’s and looks almost exactly the same. Lance is reminded of how they could have run into each other at any time. Then again, if they had met another way, who knows if they’d have been in each other’s company?

“I’ll walk you up,” Lance offers. They make the walk up two floors in relative silence, stopping in front of Keith’s door.

Well. This is it.

“Thanks for today,” says Lance, smiling with false bravado. “I had a good time. I hope you did too.”

“I did,” says Keith, eyes darting between Lance and the ground as if he’s not sure where to look or what to do. He holds up the hippo. “Thanks for this.”

“No worries, Keith. I only ask that you name him Lancito Jr. in honour of the man who freed him from the arcade and gave him a home.”

Keith laughs. He’s looking at Lance kind of funny— there’s something in his eyes that Lance can’t really place. He sets down the hippo on the doormat. And then he curls a hand around the back of Lance’s neck, pulls him down, and presses their lips together.

Lance’s heart skids to a stop.

And starts back up again, frighteningly fast.

Keith’s lips are soft and warm, if a little chapped. He moves his mouth slowly, pressing closer, inviting Lance to respond. And that, Lance does. He threads his fingers through Keith’s hair and deepens the kiss more than eagerly until their chests are pressed together and his mind is overwhelmed with nothing but Keith, Keith, Keith.

Keith backs him up against the wall, kissing intently. He tightens his hold in Lance’s hair, sliding his tongue across Lance’s lower lip and biting teasingly in a way that has his body shuddering and his knees turning to jelly. It’s then that Lance starts to feel his cock tenting in his jeans.

With how closely they’re pressed together, Keith feels it, too. Lance’s face heats up in shame as Keith pulls away curiously. When surprise turns into realization, his eyes darken, and his tongue darts out to lick his lip. He drags a thumb slowly over the skin above the hem of Lance’s jeans. He looks up at Lance, and as he speaks, Lance recognizes that voice all too well.

“Want to come inside?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)))))))
> 
> also, thank you [cosu](https://hardlynotnever.tumblr.com/post/167105926195/30-days-of-thanks-day-3-redbeantofu-ao3-fav) for the wonderful art! and thank you to the anon commenter for letting me know that it existed ;A;
> 
> another note: if you enjoy my work and would like to support my writing please check out that lil button in my [tumblr bio](http://redbeantofu.tumblr.com). it would mean the world to me <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can’t believe it’s been almost 2 years since i started this fic. thank you guys so much for sticking around! there are a lot of details in this fic that build up over time, so feel free to give it a reread if you'd like. i had to reread it myself so i didn't forget what had happened lolol. 
> 
> without further ado… the chapter you’ve all been waiting for :^)

It all happens crazy fast. Before he knows it they’re on Keith’s bed, lips locked in a tug-of-war of sorts. Lance deepens the kiss, moaning into Keith’s mouth and tipping them forward, running his hands up and down Keith’s sides. Keith flips them over, knocking Lance’s breath away. Pinning Lance down to the bed, his eyes are dark as they rake over Lance’s body. Lance’s whole body tingles with anticipation. 

“Do you want—” says Keith, and then he stops, chewing on his bottom lip with sudden nervousness. 

It hits Lance, then, finally. They’re really going to do this. A million thoughts race through his mind. Doubts that hadn’t even been in the picture back when they were strangers. What if he’s not  _ good  _ at it? He doesn’t have any experience, after all. What if his dick is too small? He knows it’s about average, but what if Keith’s way bigger and his looks lame in comparison? What if Keith has a huge dick and it doesn’t fit inside him? Wait, whoa— are they really going all the way on the first date? They’d done it over the phone, but this was a different story.

Keith looks at him, face growing increasingly worried. Just when he starts to move off of Lance, Lance catches him by the wrist. Funnily enough, it’s the concern in Keith’s eyes that relaxes Lance. Despite the gap in experience, despite his uncertainty of what’s coming, knowing that Keith cares about his well being makes it a little easier. He trusts him.

“Yeah,” says Lance breathlessly. “Yeah, I want this.” 

Keith kisses him quickly, and Lance feels him smile against his lips. “How do you want it?”

“Uh,” says Lance, because that’s a whole other ballpark. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I just want you.”

“Okay,” says Keith, corner of his lip quirking up in a way that’s cute and sexy at the same time. “We can start by getting these off.”

Keith scootches down and off the bed, gets on his knees, and deftly unbuttons Lance’s jeans. Taking the zipper between his teeth, he tugs it down. Even just watching that, Lance is already hard as hell. He digs his fingers into the bedsheets and lifts his hips helpfully, allowing Keith to pull down his pants and boxers. 

His cock springs free up against his stomach, and Keith pauses for a moment to look at it. He doesn’t even have time to dissect the look of admiration on Keith’s face before Keith wraps a hand around his cock and tugs lightly. The gloves add to the friction, deliciously so. Lance’s hips jerk and he bites back a moan, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Feels good?”

“Yeah,” Lance says, already breathless. 

He tries not to thrust up as Keith strokes him again, long and slow, but he can’t help but yelp in surprise when Keith lowers his head and takes the head of his cock into his mouth, giving it a tentative suck before pulling off. 

“This okay?”

Satisfied with Lance’s enthusiastic nod, Keith sinks down onto Lance’s cock again and Lance  _ groans,  _ pleasure rippling through his body. Keith is  _ good _ at this, he thinks, with no surprise. Watching his dark, focused eyes framed by pretty lashes, cute pink lips wrapped obscenely around his own cock, Lance has to fight hard not to thrust into Keith’s mouth, and bite back the noises threatening to escape.

“Don’t be shy,” Keith prompts, pulling off. A string of saliva connects to the head of Lance’s cock. “I like your voice. I think that’s a given. I wanna hear you.”

Lance gives a shaky laugh, which turns into a full-blown moan when Keith takes him into his mouth again. Instinctively, he grabs hold of Keith’s hair in his hand. Spurred on by the gesture, Keith keeps going, varying his rhythm, licking teasingly up the side and then taking him all into his mouth again, until the perfect, wet heat becomes almost too much for Lance to bear. Embarrassingly quickly, he feels himself teetering over the edge of orgasm.

“Keith,” Lance pleads, voice unrecognizable to himself. “Keith, oh  _ fuck _ , I’m gonna come.”

Keith hums in approval. “Yeah, Lance,” he says, low enough to send shivers all through Lance. “Come for me.”

That’s all it takes, as it always has— Keith’s voice, to push him over the edge. He comes with a cry, inadvertently tugging hard on Keith’s hair, though Keith seems to like that. Lance’s breath comes out in harsh whimpers as Keith swallows and milks the last of his orgasm from his sensitive dick. 

“Oh my God,” Lance says, voice shaky, after Keith has pulled off. He falls back on the bed, stares up at the ceiling, and wonders how the hell he ever sufficed with just Keith’s voice and his imagination when the real thing was  _ so  _ much better. “That was amazing.”

Keith chuckles, but Lance sees the small, pleased blush that colors the tips of his ears. “Let me suck you off, too,” Lance offers in a moment of bravery. 

“Yeah, okay,” says Keith, voice rough with arousal. Lance pulls his pants back up, and they switch positions. Lance positions himself on his knees between Keith’s legs. He pulls Keith’s zipper down, and then his boxers, and wow, that’s a nice dick. A little thicker than his own, slightly less lengthy. Without wasting another breath, Lance takes the head into his mouth, and Keith  _ groans.  _

_ I did that,  _ Lance thinks to himself with a burst of pride.  _ I made that sound happen.  _ Highly motivated, he sinks down further, bobbing up and down and relishing the noises Keith makes, the way his hand comes up to grip Lance’s hair. He tries to mimic what Keith did, with successful results— before he knows it Keith is tensing up, gripping Lance’s hair tight. 

“Fuck,” says Keith. “Y-you’re doing so well, feels good—  _ ah!” _

Lance takes as much of Keith into his mouth as he can without gagging, swallowing lightly around him, and that quickly tips Keith over the edge. He comes with a shout, and Lance tries to swallow it all, but chokes on it a little. He pulls off, quickly wiping up the tears at the corners of his eyes, wiping up the cum dribbling down his chin and sucks it off his fingertips.

_ “Jesus,”  _ says Keith. “You’re so hot, you know that?”

Lance flushes at the praise and moans around Keith. Keith looks wrecked, and that just makes Lance want to kiss him all over again, so he climbs up on the bed and does just that. Keith’s hands slide pleasantly up and down his sides, and their bodies fit nicely together. Lance likes this, this nice, floaty feeling spreading from his head to toe. He likes it so much that he curses out loud when his phone rings. 

He fishes it out of the back pocket of his discarded pants and picks up. “Hello?”

“Did you get the D?” says Pidge’s perky voice on the other end.

“Shut up!” says Lance much too loudly. Keith jolts, and Lance pats Keith’s back in apology. “And yeah, I did,” he whispers into the phone. 

“Great,” says Pidge, sounding only slightly enthused. “Very happy for you, but not interested in hearing about it. Just wanted to ask if you could send me some photos of your Spanish textbook? I’m studying for the test tomorrow, but some of the pages are missing in my book since I bought it secondhand.” 

“We have a  _ test?” _

Pidge sighs deeply, disappointed but not surprised. “Get it together, Lance. You don’t want to get  _ that  _ D.”

To be fair, it was just an elective. Still, he didn’t want to bomb it— his abuelita already nagged at him constantly about improving his language skills. “Alright, alright,” says Lance. “I’ll send them as soon as I get home.”

“Alright, thanks. Good night, Lance.” She hangs up, and Lance turns to Keith.

“Who was that?” asks Keith, looking distracted.

“Uh, Pidge,” says Lance. “I told you about her. She’s one of my best friends.”

“Her voice sounds really familiar,” says Keith, thoughtful. Lance has a moment of panic in which he wonders if she ever called him  _ at work  _ until he remembers Pidge would never touch sex with a twenty-foot pole. 

“Her real name’s Katie, if that helps,” he offers. 

“Oh!” says Keith. “It’s her. We used to be neighbours back at one of my old foster homes.”

_ “No way,”  _ says Lance. “Seriously? First Shiro, now Pidge. It’s like we were meant to meet each other.”

Keith blushes. 

“Anyway,” Lance sighs. “I gotta go. I have a test tomorrow that I haven’t started studying for.”

“Dude,” says Keith emphatically. “Get it together.”

Lance laughs. “That’s what Pidge said. But you know what? Even if I could go back and tell myself to study, I’d still spend the day with you.”

Keith’s blush deepens. “Good night, Lance,” he says. “Get home safe.”

Lance’s heart soars. “It’s just a three-minute walk,” he says. 

“Shut up,” says Keith gruffly.

Lance hums to himself the whole way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there’ll be 3 more chapters + possibly an epilogue, so i hope you enjoy the ride! updates will come faster now that i'm pretty much done with work and finals.
> 
> as usual, please let me know what you think in the comments. <3 
> 
> i’m also on [twitter](http://twitter.com/redbeantofu) / [tumblr](http://redbeantofu.tumblr.com)! if you want to support my writing, please feel free to click that green button in my tumblr bio. i’ll be studying abroad very soon, so it'd be a great help <3


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